Born of Enemies
by Anlynne
Summary: She was a Malfoy, a Gryffindor, a half-blood. She was beautiful, and proud. But what else was she? This is a sequel to Letters of Forgiveness
1. Chapter 1

No Copyright Infringement Intended

Chapter One

What's Wrong With A Malfoy

The Hogwarts Express blew another billow of steam. Parents, and children jostled around with trolley's of trunks, and animals. Ara Malfoy pushed her trolley until she became level with the train, her dad heaving her trunk, and Jewel (her silver speckled Pygmy owl) up, and storing it in the undercarriage beside Uncle Harry who was storing his own sons belongings in.

"Owl us when you get there."

"I always do, mum."

"Watch out for your cousin, Albus. I think he's more nervous than he lets on."

"I will."

"Say hi to Professor Longbottom for us."

"Of course," Ara groaned sliding a strand of hair behind her ear, the wind blowing it across her chin anyway. "Mum, this is my fifth year, not my first! I'll be fine!"

Her mom brushed invisible lint off of her shoulder kissing her cheek. "I know you will... You're just growing up so fast..."

Her dad shook his head rolling his eyes. "Hermione, please, not here." He pecked his daughter's other cheek. "Don't forget to send us your exam results. Try to get your classmates as well. We want to know how much better you did than them."

"Draco! Don't encourage that behavior!"

"What's the point of having a daughter with your brains when we're not going to gloat about it?"

Her mom glared, her dad sneered frustration sparking between them, but their eyes spoke something very different. It was an invariable, the part in a random yet useless experiment that didn't change no matter what other alterations took place. That was her parents.

Ara sighed, and kissed her dad. "I will." She turned, and kissed her mom. "I'm not taking him seriously."

"Good," her parents said together.

Another jet of stream erupted with the sound warning them to board. She hugged them both, and hopped into the train finding a compartment that wasn't occupied. A ways down she found a nearly empty one with James, and Albus Potter. Her pseudo cousins.

"Ara!" Albey, the miniature clone of his father leapt up, and hugged her around the middle.

"Hey there, Albey." She nodded to the recluse, "hello, James."

"Good, you're here," he jumped up happily. "Now I can go sit with my friends. See ya, _Albey_," he laughed narrowing his brown eyes at him before disappearing out of the compartment.

Albey narrowed his green eyes back after his brother, but Ara rushed him to his seat. "Ignore him," she advised for the hundredth time.

He threw himself in his seat crossing his arms over his chest. "He's a bully!"

"Mum said he gets that from Uncle George, and Uncle Ron." She peered out of the window waving goodbye to her parents as the train moved forwards. She waved until she lost sight of them, and sat in her seat across from Albey.

"You don't have to sit here with me, you know," he told her quietly, his eyes on his trainers. "You can go see your friends... I won't mind."

She smiled kindly. "I like sitting here with you, Albey."

He grinned, becoming a lot more talkative. He talked about Pig, Uncle Ron's owl, his new broomstick that he wasn't allowed to bring. The way James teased him through the summer.

She let his chatter go on, her gaze out the window thoughtfully watching trees fly by. The truth was she didn't have any friends. Not one. None of the kids wanted anything to do with her, and she didn't understand why. Her first year she was treated as a criminal. Her second year, and so forth she was ignored. This year wouldn't be any different...

Her parents never knew this, of course. Her mother would cry, and her father would be angry. She imagined he would send off rude letters, and storm into the school to talk to every professor there as if they had anything to do with it. They've been curious at how she never mentioned friends, and ended being concerned until explaining that work came first. This didn't make them happy, but they didn't question her further seeing as how they thought it was her choice.

Being unpopular wasn't too bad. Ara had become used to it. She was at the top of her class, though like her dad had mentioned she inherited her mother's brains, so because she memorized every one of her course books, and read most of the library she had a lot of time on her hands. She used quite a bit of that time helping Hagrid the gamekeeper. Despite her top marks there was the joke that she was going to be the future gamekeeper. One day they would eat their words. She would work in a highly respectable position at the Ministry. She would show them all.

Albey was interrupted in his speech of the more recent Quidditch match by the door sliding open revealing a lanky stick-of-a-girl, and a burly boy with thick eyebrows. Janice Higgs, and Michael Pritchard. Slytherin bullies.

"Oh, look, Michael, the future gamekeeper of Hogwarts with... A Potter. How quaint."

"I see what you mean, Janice," he said in mock enthusiasm. "Look at the poor outcasts."

Albey's eyes widened with shock that anyone could be so rude. His parents did shelter him from harsh reality, but these students were lying. The Potters were very well respected, and liked. They were popular by the best sense of the word.

Ara shot out of her seat. "Albey is not an outcast! Get out of here!" Her hand itched for her wand in her back pocket.

"A Malfoy protecting a Potter. Wow, a time-warp," Higgs commented.

Pritchard shook his head. "No one thought a Malfoy would marry a mudblood either, and produce little half-bloods! A Malfoy in Gryffindor?! The world's gone mad." Sarcasm. Funny.

Ara breathed through her nose, her jaw clenched tight. She suspected that her parents were the cause for the hatred everyone seemed to feel for her. So what if her parents fell in love at school? So what if it wasn't expected - a Slytherin, and a Gryffindor? What did it matter? It wasn't that big of a deal! Then Pritchard, and Higgs made a big deal of everything. They bothered her at the beginning of every year, and every year she hexed them. It was routine.

"Two filthy half-bloods. What do you think about teaching them a lesson, Michael?"

"Love to."

Ara withdrew her wand at the same time they did, and she sidestepped in front of Albey's. It was one thing for them to hex her, but to hex a scared first year was entirely different, and she wouldn't have it.

Then there was two flashes of light, and when Ara opened her eyes Pritchard, and Higgs were lying flat on their face at her feet. Albey gasped, and Ara stared at the too-handsome boy in front of her.

Dark cinnamon hair, dark gray eyes like an oncoming storm, chiseled features, a strong jaw line, and prominent cheekbones. He stole her breath.

"Are you all right," he asked worriedly, and she noticed the yellow, and black tie of his uniform. A Hufflepuff.

"Y-yes, I-I am."

He smiled dazzlingly. "Good. I'll get them out of here for you."

She watched as Albey bounced forth to help him drag out the Slytherin's into the hallway. She was glued in her spot. Guys had smiled at her, they did it a lot. She had her mother's chocolate hair, but unlike her wild mane hers was baby-soft like her father's. She had his eyes, light tempest, his fair skin. She had her mother's gentle features. She was beautiful, and was used to the attention by boys that didn't know her last name. This boy obviously had no idea who she was.

"T-thank y-you," she stuttered lamely.

He smiled again standing straight. "You're welcome." He held out his hand. "My name's Thomas Diggory. What's yours?"

She bit her lip unsure if she should tell the truth. What if he wanted nothing to do with her? She waited a beat too long. Albey answered for her.

"Her name's Ara Malfoy!"

Thomas' hand dropped. "Oh... Malfoy..."

"Yes," she said coldly, her stutter gone with offense. "My parents are Draco, and Hermione Malfoy. I'm a Malfoy, a half-blood, and a Gryffindor. You've probably never seen me because of that!" She wondered idly why she never seen him. Surely she wouldn't miss someone that looked like him. Then again, she might. She tried to avoid the looks people gave her. If she looked once around her she would see a lot of new faces that she had unknowingly been sharing classes, and rooms with.

"So you are..."

"A Malfoy," she finished.

"Right... Well then... Goodbye," he hunched his shoulders, and left shutting the compartment door quietly behind him.

Albey looked up at her curiously. "Why did he act like that? What's wrong with a Malfoy?"

She continued to stare at the door where the handsome boy left from. "I don't know, Albey..." She intended to find out. For the first time in her life she cared why that boy didn't like her.

As soon as Albey broke out of his reflection he jumped right in with where he left off in his story. Something about the Chudley Canon's increase in dropped Quaffle's for the year. She acted like she was listening as he rattled on for the whole train ride. It was odd as much as he annoyed her she preferred him, and his sister Lily to their brother. Anything was better than that trouble-making brat. In all honesty they were all trouble-makers, but James was too much like their uncle's.

She was very thankful when the train was getting ready to stop at it's station at Hogwarts. Albey left her briefly so she could change into her black robes. She was straightening her scarlet, and gold tie when he came returned, but they parted once more when he with the other first years took the boats across the lake. She took the horseless carriages.

It was routine. In the Great Hall every chair was filled, but the ones nearest to her was scooted as far away as possible. Everyone paid no attention to her. She was invisible. A nothing. The chair could be empty as far as anyone was concerned.

Ara watched as Albey became sorted into Gryffindor. No surprise, every one of the Weasley's, and Potter's were Gryffindor's. A long standing tradition that would become a scandal if broken. It worried Albey all summer of what house he would be placed in. James jested with him throughout that he would be sorted into Slytherin. Even after the war their parents endured in their school days Slytherin remained the house of evil. So when the old worn patchwork hat was sat on his head, and it screamed "Gryffindor," he never looked happier, and immediately joined his brother to gloat.

She went straight to her dormitory after the meal. The girls pretended as if there wasn't another bed in the room, and she preferred that. She took a bit of parchment, a quill, and ink bottle with her closing the curtain.

She thought of what she would write to her parents. They always meant the best for her, but she was fifteen-years-old... Wasn't it about time that she knew the truth whether there was a boy involved or not? Whatever that truth was... There was something missing in everything they told her of their past. They fought in the war with the rest of her family, and they won. What else was there to know? It would be easier to understand why the Slytherin's hated her, because everyone knew they were made up of Death Eater's children, and ones that were plainly with the idea that they were better blood. Her dad had been in that house, but he said nothing about being a Death Eater. She assumed he was different. He had to be to marry her mom. Her mom was muggle-born, and the best friend to the wizarding world's heroes, Harry Potter, and Ron Weasley. She was hero herself. Though no one said this about her dad, she assumed... She assumed a lot.

Ara carefully dipped her quill into its bottle, and pressed it to the parchment watching as it soaked it up.

_Mom & Dad,_

_I'm here at Hogwarts. Albus was sorted into Gryffindor. He's so proud. I think James will never hear the end of it. It serves him right for being so cruel during the summer._

_I've asked you many times, but how did you two meet? I know you two aren't telling me everything. I'm old enough to know it all now. Don't treat me like a child, I deserve to know what happened._

_I suppose I'll hear from you soon. Love you both._

_With Much Love, Ara_

She folded, and slipped it into an envelops writing her parents names on the front. She blew on the ink for it to dry, and hid it beneath her pillow. She set her supplies on her nightstand wondering if they'd really tell her the truth this time. She doubted it. Like the Potter's sheltered their children from who they were in society, her parents sheltered her from their relationship.

She was a Malfoy. A Gryffindor. A half-blood. She was Ara Malfoy daughter of Draco, and Hermione Malfoy. She was beautiful, and proud. But what else was she?

A/N: I highly suggest that if you haven't read Letters of Forgiveness you do so before continuing to read this story. I'm not sure how much sense it'll make otherwise.

In some background information, Thomas is after part of Robert Pattinson's name. If you don't know who he is he's the man that plays Cedric Diggory in the fourth Harry Potter film.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Tainted

For the first time in Hogwarts she didn't sit alone at breakfast. Albey abandoned his post with his brother - mainly because James threatened to turn him into a teapot, and ship him back home to their mother if he didn't. So he sat gloomy at Ara's side. She consoled him shortly, and ate quickly. She never wanted to spend too much time in the presence of everyone. It was like asking to be noticed. Well, she was, by Pritchard, and Higgs who gave her fierce glowers. They were easy to ignore.

Snatching a piece of toast she stood up, and left to the Entrance Hall. Easy as that. "Walk away," she quoted her mom quietly. She took her advice through the school year while she followed her dad's when she was pushed too far. "Hex them," her dad would say while her mother shook her head furiously.

She stopped at the huge double doors when she heard her name softly being called. She spun, and waited for the young boy to speak his request.

"Can I come with you," Albey asked hopefully.

"Do you even know where I'm going?"

He shrugged. "It's better than in there, isn't it?"

She patted the kid's head sympathetically. "Not today, Albey. I'll see you at lunch?"

"Sure..." He retreated shuffling his feet towards the grand staircase.

She felt a bit bad about telling him no, but she was used to being alone. She liked it, and she had to give him the freedom to choose his friends. It was bad enough that he was sitting with her. He would soon follow in her footsteps. He was a Potter, he was meant to be popular, and she wanted to keep it that way, and the way to do that was to keep him away from her in school. When summer came they would go back to being cousins.

She made her way quietly through the grounds to the tall tower-like structure of the Owlery. She went in wrinkling her nose, the smell a bit potent. Skeletons of different rodents crunching beneath her feet. It wasn't the most pleasant place to be, but she was glad it was a weekend, or else she would have to wait until her break to be able to send her letter off. She was anxious for the response from her parents no matter how sure she was about the answer.

However, Ara stopped in her tracks when she saw the handsome boy from the train stroking the belly of an owl on his arm. Thomas looked over to her frozen in the archway, and nodded in greeting.

This boy obviously knew something about her that wasn't good like everyone else, but he seemed nice enough. He acknowledged her which was something no one else had done. Perhaps he would tell her what she wanted to know - what her parents wouldn't. She didn't have anything to lose, and nothing to gain. She was in the perfect situation.

"Why am I hated," she blurted out her voice echoing slightly.

He didn't seem the least surprised by her outburst, he went on petting his barn yard owl. For a minute she thought he forgot about her, and then he spoke. "You're a Malfoy."

She waited for him to go on, but he didn't. "So?"

Now he seemed surprised. "What do you mean 'so?'"

"So I'm a Malfoy? What difference does that make?"

"Other than half of your descendents have all been Death Eaters?" He was sarcastic borderline rude.

She heated in anger. "My father was not, and is not a Death Eater!" The owls fluttered above her emitting hoots.

He directed his eyes at the rafters above. "Draco Malfoy is your father, correct?"

"Yes."

"He was a Death Eater. Everyone knows that."

Her hands shook. "You're a liar," she seethed through her teeth.

"Your mother's one of the Golden Trio - a hero. She helped defeat Voldemort - made it safe in our world again. Then she married a Death Eater, the son of one of Voldemort's most powerful followers. She was tortured in his Manor right in front of him, and yet she still married him."

_Tortured_, she thought in anguish. Her parents never did tell her the details of the war, about the scar on her mom's neck. She really did know nothing of them. "You're a liar," she bellowed the barn yard owl flying to the rafters with a screech in disapproval. Thomas didn't flinch.

"What reason do I have to lie to you," he asked without so much as glancing in her direction.

"You tell me," she cried. "Hufflepuffs! You all are supposed to stand for justice! To be fair, and kind! You're a hypocrite!"

He spun on her. "I'm a hypocrite? I didn't proclaim to hate muggles, and then marry one!"

"I'm not them!"

"You have their blood! You have a hero's blood tainted by a Death Eater's!"

"That's the only thing that matters, eh? Blood? It's always blood! Nothing has changed."

"Like you remember before?"

"Like you do?"

"My brother's dead because of Death Eaters!" Thomas said this so loudly that half the owls flew out of the closest available windows. Their feathers ruffled, and a few drifted down on them.

They were a hair away both red in the face, their breaths erratic. She stepped back. "My uncle is dead because of Death Eaters." She remembered the pictures shown to her of her Uncle Fred always smiling, laughing, playing pranks. A man not related to her by blood, but by heart. The Weasley's were as good as family to her.

"You don't have an uncle..."

Tears sprung in her eyes. "Yes, I do. Fred Weasley -"

He was quiet for a moment. "They're not -"

"Blood, I know." She bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from saying what she wanted. She couldn't hold it in any longer. "But unlike you blood doesn't matter to me!" She hoped it slapped him in the face. It didn't.

"It doesn't matter to me either!"

"You have a way of showing it," she snapped.

"I believe in justice, and Draco Malfoy didn't get his justice. He was set free as if he didn't do anything wrong -"

"He didn't do anything wrong! He helped -"

"In the last moments of the war," he finished incorrectly. "That's not enough! Nothing he does will make up for what he is!"

"Last moments," she spat. "He fought all the way through!"

Thomas' mouth clamped shut, and she swore she could hear his teeth slam together. "If you don't know your parents... It's not my place to tell you."

"Please," she asked quietly.

He turned his back to her attempting to coax his owl down from the highest rafter in the building. He pretended like she wasn't there. He was like everyone else... For some reason that hurt her more than all the insults she received during her days at Hogwarts.

She ran out of the Owlery forgetting about her letter, about finding out about her parents. She didn't care then. She would later, but not until she gathered herself in peace, and went through every bit of information she obtained then from the best perspective she could. Not as a Malfoy, but as a person.

Her father is said to be a Death Eater. She never once saw the Dark Mark on his arm to suggest it... How routine would it be to do a concealment charm every day? It would be like brushing one's teeth she supposed.

Forget about being perspective, her father couldn't be a Death Eater. He was... Her dad. Death eaters simply did not marry muggle-borns like her mother. They didn't cook meals by hand, or have their daughter wash the dishes. A Death Eater parent didn't do that. They didn't spoil their half-blood daughter with expensive toys, clothes, and trips around the world. They didn't love them. Death Eaters didn't even have half-blood children. If they did they certainly wouldn't be Death Eaters, it would be a shame on them.

She's felt like an outsider, an outcast, she's felt unwanted, and hated. Never once did she feel that she was _tainted_. Not until then. She heard a muggle quote somewhere - that no one could make you feel bad about yourself without your permission.

She stole a look at the Owlery behind her halting in her steps. She tried to catch a peek at the boy inside, but she was too far by then to see anything but darkness.

In the situation she was in that quote was rubbish. If you cared about someone - even for someone that you barely knew they could stab you deeply with just words. He stabbed her deeply, but Thomas was much more than mistaken... He was wrong! The whole wizarding community was wrong.

Consumed in her daydreams she didn't see who she ran into before they were lying on their back. A raven-head kid a foot shorter than herself, if he was standing that is.

"Albey, what're you doing?" She helped him to his feet as he brushed off the dirt, the grass stains remaining.

"I'm lonely," he mumbled.

"Go make friends," she suggested matter-of-factly, and began walking her own way once more.

"You're my friend!"

She felt sympathy for the boy, she really did, but he didn't understand that it was best not to associate with the outcast. When it came to their past he understood less than she did. "Make new friends, Albey. I have things to do today, I need my space."

He moaned sadly, and went the opposite way she was going. She noticed that he was heading towards a small shack near the Forbidden Forest. He was going to visit Hagrid. Her reputation was ruined before she started having tea with Hagrid. There would remain a good chance for Albey regardless.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

A New Friend

Ara sat in the far corner of the library poured over her Transfiguration book. Her studies - her life. When she graduated it would be her work - her life. Yes, that was the way it was meant to be for her. Though this particular time she studied it was more than fulfilling an empty space in her schedule. She was hopelessly trying to force Thomas from her mind.

She did a good job at avoiding him. It wasn't very hard considering they had no classes together, and they were in different houses. There would be the occasional chance that they ran into each other on the grounds, or in the corridors, and the dreaded meal times in the Great Hall. She dodged expertly, and ate quickly. He wasn't able to corner her yet, and he would never guess that she would be studying in the library. He viewed her purely a Malfoy after all, and Malfoy's rarely studied in the libraries. They preferred the solitude that came with their dungeons. She may be a Malfoy, but she was a Granger, and Gryffindor, and she studied wherever she could. The library simply held more privacy.

For a Gryffindor she was pathetically scared of hearing the truth. She was certain that her parents wouldn't tell her the truth, but now she was frightened at the prospect that they would. What if they told her that everything the students thought about her family was true? What if her father really was a Death Eater? Would she believe Thomas about her tainted bloodline? Ironic, Death Eaters believed that muggle-borns tainted _their_ bloodline.

"Maybe I was wrong about you."

Ara nearly jumped out of her skin at the voice in her ear. Thomas was close - too close to her face. She saw that his skin was flawless, beautiful. He grinned flashing her his perfect white teeth, and sat beside her.

"What do you mean," she demanded forcing her voice steady.

"Sitting in the library studying when you are the most gifted witch in the school. That includes the teachers."

She sneered at his attempt to make nice all of a sudden. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

He chortled. "From what I've read about your mother she was quite the bookworm too."

Yes, all those books on the Golden Trio. All of which she was forbidden to read. Her mom went as far as sending in a letter to Madam Pince recommending the removal of them from the Hogwarts library.

"And you were wrong about me how...?"

His eyes didn't waver from hers. "Forgive me, I assumed you were just like your father."

"What? That I have a pretty tattoo on my arm?"

He winced, but didn't say anything, and she pulled up her right sleeve showing her pale, but bare forearm. Hesitantly he ran his fingers over the flesh. She shivered from his light touch. He withdrew looking away, and she hastily covered up her arm.

"I'm sorry... My mum, and dad, they never got over my brother's death."

"Who was your brother?"

"Cedric... Your parents knew him. He was killed on order from Voldemort."

"I'm sorry too..." She sighed heavily remembering a crystal cup in a glass cupboard where the school kept all of their rewards. He was noted for bravery, and loyalty. "Whatever you think of my dad... He's not a bad man. He's very kind..."

"People don't change."

"Can you really hate me for what you think my dad did?"

He glanced back up at her. "No... I was thinking about it after you left. Not matter what I heard about your father I don't think I can... You're nothing like him..."

"You got all that from me sitting in the library studying?"

"You never cause trouble... You're quiet... Smart... So _unlike_ your father from the stories I've heard." He concentrated picking at a burnt spot on the table. She was glad for that. She was blushing. "You don't believe he's a Death Eater, do you?"

"No, I don't."

"You should go see Professor Longbottom."

She nodded. Professor Neville Longbottom of Herbology. Her mother's old friend. She wondered if he would tell her the truth. She never went to him before because the chances that he'd spill what he knew was too slim. He was amazingly loyal to her mom, and she suspected grudgingly towards her dad. She never questioned the reason for that, because Uncle Ron acted the same way.

Ara dropped her book in her book bag, got to her feet, and slung it over her shoulder. "Thanks, Thomas."

"I'll see you later?"

She furrowed her brows. "You'll ruin your reputation if you're seen with me."

He shrugged. "You're nice, Ara. I'd like to get to know you better."

"What will your parents say," she jested.

He was serious. "None of the Malfoy's killed Cedric. They didn't have a hand in it, they weren't even there... And it's you I'm interested in, not your family. I hope they'll understand that."

"I do too." She strolled to the doors, glancing only once to see if he was watching her. He was.

Ara dropped her book bag off at her dormitory. It was completely deserted, and she found out why when she walked outside. The air was crisp with only the hint of coming rain.

Hermione walked into the greenhouse. It was stuffy, and a thin layer of fog rolled across the floor. At the end of a long table full of spiky plants dripping a sickly yellow ooze was Professor Longbottom, a gruff looking man with many scars he wore as medals. He looked up from sheering one of them, and grinned, "hello, Ms. Malfoy."

"Hello, Professor..." She took a seat beside him on the backless chair

"Is there something you need?"

"A story..."

He started sheering again. "From me? What story do you want?" He seemed pleased. He loved sharing his war stories with students. He didn't tell it in form of glory, but in reality. It was horrible hearing about the deaths, the crumbling school they loved so much, but it was the truth, and everyone appreciated that. They wanted the truth. So did she, perhaps more than any of them.

"You know my parents... What were they like in school?"

His grin stretched wider. "Your mother was - is the greatest witch of her age. She was always studying, getting top marks, was a Prefect. She helped me out a lot with my school work. Between you, and me, I would've failed without her," he chortled. "She was immensely brave, and kind-hearted. Your dad... He was..." He glimpsed at her frowning instantly. "He was very good at getting people in trouble."

She shook her head feeling misunderstood. "No Professor, what were they like with _each other_."

His sheers froze. "I'm afraid I can't... You should talk with them about that."

"No. I want you to tell me."

"Why is that, Ara?"

"Because you can tell me what they can't - what they won't! Please Professor, everyone hates me. You've seen that. I don't have one solitary friend, and I deserve to know why!" She felt near tears, and gripped the desk until her knuckles were white. Professor Neville's hand squeezed her shoulder.

"I'm not the person to tell you -"

"You're the exact person to tell me! You knew them better than anyone here!"

He set his sheers down, and crinkled his forehead as if he was going against his best judgment. "Your parents... They hated each other in school. We all hated Draco, and he hated us just as much. We were constantly at each other's throats, fighting, and..." He pressed his fingertips to his head in a sign of an oncoming headache. I can't tell you anymore than that, Ara. I've said too much already."

Her parents hated each other... It sounded so odd to hear. Her parents loved each other so obviously that it was almost sickening. The way they looked at each other. How could that be right? "Then why did they get married," she hissed. "Why am I here if that's true?!"

"In school we were enemies. Your father asked for forgiveness, and your mother gave him that. That's why they're together, and why you're here. What else do you need to know?" He seemed happier now, like that tiny speech was able to turn her mood around. It wasn't, and by his shocked expression he didn't expect what she asked next.

"Is my father a Death Eater?"

He breathed in, and out so fast he was almost hyperventilating. He pressed a dirt covered hand to his forehead.

"Professor?"

"I'm fine," he insisted leaning on the table. "I _can't_ tell you anything more about your dad, it's not my place. Don't ask anything else."

She pouted, but knew that only worked on her father. She considered of persisting her case, but he appeared to be at the end of his rope as it was. "Thanks anyways, Professor."

"You're welcome, Ara."

Slinking out of her seat she left the greenhouse. Already a plan was forming in her mind. It would work, no doubt about it. All she had to do was be patient.

From the Quidditch fields ran a small figure, the thick glasses slipping to the tip of his nose. Albey skidded to a stop in front of her wheezing.

She patted his arm. "Take it easy there."

He held out a torn piece of parchment. "Diggory asked me to give this to you."

She took the note. While she unfolded it she watched a canary yellow streak by. She couldn't see the boy on the broom, but because Thomas was a Seeker he was the one that was high above everyone else that was fighting for the Quaffle below. The best Seeker in Hogwarts.

_Ara,_

_Meet me in the empty classroom five doors down on the sixth floor. One o'clock._

_Thomas_

She blushed crimson, and Albey grinned exposing his secret.

"You shouldn't read people's notes. It's not polite."

"Don't worry, Ara," he waved his hand carelessly over his shoulder. "I won't be spying. You, and Diggory?" His face contorted in disgust. Not in the disgust others would show, but the disgust of an eleven-year-old boy finding the proclamation of romantic interest "gross." He certainly wouldn't be spying on her that night. Or ever.

She laughed her eyes back to that yellow streak in the sky. There was audible cheering creeping toward her. Thomas caught the Snitch.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Secret Friends

Two fifty-five Ara snuck out of her bed, and left the portrait with the snoring Fat Lady behind. She was past her bedtime naturally, but it wasn't like anyone noticed her. She couldn't have been better hidden if she had Uncle Harry's invisibility cloak. The teachers were the exception, of course, and Peeves only bothered her once. Her first day at Hogwarts he hovered in the air above her laughing manically yelling a stupid rhyme about being the daughter to "wee old Draco Malfoy." So for that reason she walked as she normally would, not shuffling her feet, or staying on the tips of her toes.

She pushed open the door, and saw a ball of white light hovering near a desk. When her eyes adjusted from the flickering flames out in the corridors she saw that Thomas sat on the desk with his luminescent wand. A wide grin spread across his flawless face, his eyes shining in the light. As tall as he was his feet touched the floor. Hers wouldn't.

"You came," he exclaimed cheerfully.

She closed the door. "You're surprised?"

He shrugged. "We were okay in the library, but in the Owlery... I wouldn't blame you if you were still mad about that. I didn't act like much of a Hufflepuff."

"I'm not mad..." Ara hopped up beside him. She was right. Her feet didn't reach the floor. "You were honest. That's more than anyone else has been with me in my life. As far as you being a Hufflepuff goes... Sometimes we don't act exactly like what we're labeled." She swung her legs idly thinking of the examples she could give. Her mother fit in with the Ravenclaws, Professor Longbottom with the Hufflepuff's. No one fit the criteria perfectly, except those of the original founders. She didn't voice any of it. She wasn't used to voicing too much around anyone, including her family. Instead she asked the question that she wanted to ask for a second time. Just in case. "Why are you friendly to me?"

"Because you're not ashamed. You don't renounce your parentage. You're... Proud. I like that."

"Even if I'm a Malfoy," she half-joked.

"If you were truly horrible you would've cursed me, and like I said I wouldn't blame you. You should've cursed me, would have served me right. Ara, you could be a descendent from Voldemort for all I care. As long as you are you."

She blushed deeply, and directed her attention to the window outside to avoid him seeing it. The wind ruffled the leaves of the trees of the Forbidden Forest causing a few fall. She thought she caught a glimpse of eyes of an animal flashing by the moon. "Why did you want to meet me," she finally asked.

"You look like you could use a friend."

She became red again, but this time not from flattery. "I don't need friends," she spat.

"Everyone needs friends."

"I've survived."

"To be happy -"

"I am happy." She recognized the irony in her voice, the way the words sliced through the air with venom its intent to poison like a snake ready to strike. Sometimes she contemplated if the Sorting Hat made a mistake when it yelled out Gryffindor to the school. She wasn't sure if she was as brave as she let on... Ruthless, and uncaring suited her better, and those characteristics suited Slytherin's.

Abruptly he stole her hand. The contact shocked her, and she spun to face him. He was passive. Unreadable. "I can make you happier."

"Oh, really," she spat sarcastically trying to ignore how holding her hand felt. It was such a simple act it shouldn't have made her feel like her stomach bottomed out.

"Let me try."

There was a sincerity there that was impossible to pass. Locked into his gaze, his beautiful gray eyes she couldn't say no. "Okay." She wished she could've gathered her Gryffindor courage, the one personality trait she was supposed to have, but she wasn't wishing that for long because the feeling of having a friend right there was a comfort. She didn't want to let it go - to let him go.

Rebounding off the walls was banging, and high-pitch squealing. It sounded like it came from outside, but it vibrated the walls surrounding them too. Without much thought into it they both groaned at the same time, "Peeves." The noise came closer, and without saying anything else they clasped hands, and hurried to the door pressing their ears against it. The noise intensified, and the wooden door shook beneath them.

Thomas stuck his head out, and through the crack of the door by his neck she could see the poltergeist flying his way around the corner yelling obscenities. The cackling descended with him, but there was no doubt he would be back if he heard them, or even had the idea they were there. Getting students in trouble was his favorite past time.

"Come on," he whispered leading her out to the corridor, and down the opposite way that Peeves had gone.

They crept down the hallway. Now Ara was on the tips of her toes begging her trainers not to squeak, and her robe to stop the rustling sound it made. Their breathing, to their heartbeats were too loud. She was imagining it all, but she prepared herself in case Peeves suddenly appeared in front of them.

It was instant. When they past the corner they broke into a run, their hands tightening, slicked with sweat, but they stifled their laughs the whole way to Gryffindor Tower. At the top step their hands slipped, and they bent at the waist catching the breath they lost while escaping, but it was hard since they continued to have silent fits. They may have been far from the worst, but there was the Fat Lady snoring even louder beside them.

"That was the most fun I've ever had," she admitted pathetically keeping her voice low.

"Then we should do it more often. Not the running, of course, but meeting every night."

"If we're going to be friends that's what it'll have to be." She quickly added when she saw the despondent look he gave. "I mean that we shouldn't tell anyone this... You might accept me, but no one else does, and if they know that we're friends, they won't have anything to do with you. I don't want you to give up your friends for me."

"That hardly sounds fair."

"If you want to be my friend you'll have to make that deal."

"Secret friends," he guffaw. "It's juvenile, but... I like you enough to make it." He held out his hand for a shake. She took it hating the space when he released her.

Ara had a new wish that night. She wished that she was born to be liked. She wished that she was as popular as Albey, and James. If she was then perhaps she would feel that she was up to his standard somehow - worthy of him even. With that wish they could be the friends they wanted to be. It wasn't the threat of ridicule, but the fact of it. There was no getting around it. She could never have real friends, not ones that she'd have to hide.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Ara."

"Don't speak to me," she warned.

He nodded solemnly. "I won't until night, but I will see you. You'll see me too."

She smirked, and watched until he disappeared with the many steps he walked down to his common room. When the tapping of his shoes was gone she snuck back in the portrait, the Fat Lady not stirring from her loud doze.

She glimpsed at her watch. It was three in the morning. It didn't feel like they were gone that long. There was only ashes in the hearth giving the room an eerier sense than if the room was filled with students, and noise.

When she was back in her dormitory she took note that every girl was asleep. The waft of their individual body spray, and perfume's in the air. She smelled lilac, rose, strawberry, peach, and lavender. It made her head spin terribly.

No one waited up for her. It wasn't a blow. She expected it. She would always expect to be invisible. All except to Thomas, and he fully made up for any lack of social contact.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Hope For A Malfoy

Three months had passed. Ara sat in the common room shunting herself in a corner at a study table that only she occupied bent over her essay of mating rituals between Merpeople. It should've been interesting, but it was in fact the most boring essay ever, and that included the migrations of Werewolves in Europe.

The portrait opened, and she gave the briefest glance up to see that it was Albey grinning, and laughing with his two best friends, whatever their names were. They were round chubby twins. She suspected that the only reason they followed Albey around was because he was a Potter. It made her upset, but as long as Albey was leaving her alone she wouldn't say anything, though perhaps she would come summer. Give him a slight warning to pick his friends better.

She stared too long, because the twins nudged Albey, and he turned to see her. She looked down to her work, but not before she caught him smiling, and waving. He trotted over, the twins close behind him.

"Ara!"

"Albus you _know_ her," said one of the twins in horror.

"Of course! Our parents are friends." He puffed out his chest proudly.

"She's a Malfoy!"

Albey cocked his head. "So?"

She laughed aloud recalling the memory of when she said that to Thomas in the owlery.

Albey looked to her curiously. "What's funny?"

"Leave me alone, Albus, I have work to do."

"Why does everyone treat you like that?"

She narrowed her eyes at the twins, and they stumbled backwards. She directed a softer expression to Albey. "I can't tell you why. Really, I can't. But do me a favor, Albey."

"What is it?"

"Don't talk to me, don't hang around me. It's not good for your reputation."

"I don't care about my reputation!"

"I know you don't, but I do! For your family don't associate with me. Please?"

"You are my family."

"Albey you know as well as I do that we're not blood -"

"Dad says that doesn't matter -"

"It doesn't. To us. But to others..." She shook her head trying to hurry up her explanation. She had to get him to his friends as fast as possible before the duo could question his loyalties. Some things simply didn't change. "When we're out of school, we're cousins all the same, but here... Promise me that you'll stay away. Treat me as everyone else does, and when we're at home we can be cousins."

Albey was hesitant, and she raised her eyebrows to hurry his answer. It worked.

"Fine... But we're going to talk about this later."

"This summer. At home."

He walked to the fireplace the nameless twins tracking him whispering frantically for an explanation in his lack of judgment. Albey was telling them something, and they appeared to be satisfied so it was obviously not the truth.

Now she had a schedule to work by. She had to find out if what her father was before summer when she would no doubt have to explain it to her cousin. That is if it wasn't too gruesome to tell. Uncle Harry did a thorough job of keeping them in the dark about the past, and the part their parents played in it. She didn't want to unravel that.

Much later when everyone was asleep in their dormitories Ara ambled through the corridors. It was one night out of the near hundred in the past three months since she had been doing it.

She went five doors down on the sixth floor to a classroom that was always empty. Without the fires that were crackling lively in the brackets outside, it was pitch black. She blinked, but her eyes wouldn't adjust.

"Thomas," she called in the darkness, then felt a brush on her arm as if in response.

"Right here," he said from her right side.

She felt warm lips to her cheek, and she blushed. It was better that it was so dark one couldn't see.

If it was possible she liked Thomas better than when she first saw him on the train. Yes it was more than possible, because he was rude when they met, but now they were nothing less than friends. She wouldn't have objections to being more. She wouldn't complain however, she had a friend for the first time in her life. It was a secret friendship. That was her idea. Like Albey who finally found his own friends she wouldn't have Thomas' reputation jeopardized. Unfortunately she was selfish enough that she wasn't going to direct _him_ away like her cousin.

"How was your day?"

"Fine... Wish we had classes together." He held her hand firmly.

"You'll be leaving this year." The thought caused a slight pain in her chest. She finally had someone to call a friend, and they weren't going to be there much longer. "What're you going to do after?"

"Be an Auror. There's always going to be wizards out there that want to take our freedom, and loved ones. I want to make sure that'll never happen again..." He coughed. "Have any idea what you want to be?"

She groaned. "Someone who knows the truth of my parents."

"I've told you -"

"All that you could. There's more to it, I know there is!"

"Like what?"

"Why..." Ara wiped the tears with the hand he wasn't holding. "I can't believe he's a Death Eater. Not until I see the Mark. I won't believe it."

"You believe too much in him."

"He's my father!"

"At least your mother did something great."

"It doesn't make up for what dad might've done. When I think about it... What Death Eaters used to do... He can't of... He wouldn't... I'm here, I'm proof enough that he isn't a bad person!"

"Ara," he began softly.

"I'm sorry," she said quickly, realizing her voice had broken. "I have to go. Christmas is coming up soon, and I need to make arrangements."

"Arrangements?"

There was no harm in telling him. "I'm going to write my parents, and tell them I'm staying - that I have a lot of homework to catch up on, and we'll celebrate when I get back. Mum will understand, and she'll talk dad into letting it go. They'll leave for the holidays, they love Scotland, and I'll go home -"

"Wait," he interrupted humor touching his tone. "You're going to sneak into your own house?"

"It's not sneaking when it _is_ my house. Keep up, Thomas. I'll call Uncle Blaise, and he'll help me."

"With what?"

"With the truth. If anyone knows everything, _and_ will tell me - he will." She ran her hand up his arm, his broad shoulder, his neck, his cheek, and she kissed by her fingers. "I'll see you on the train then?"

"Right. Oh, no, hold up, I have something for you."

She stopped, the door cracked open a stream of light flittering through. "You don't have to give it to me now..."

"In case we aren't able to see each other on the train. Your idea, remember?"

"Yeah..."

Thomas reached into the pocket of his robe taking out a small black box. He lifted the lid, and the ring sparkled. He lifted her left hand, and slid it on. Closer up she saw the Amethyst stone set in silver designs cut in along the band.

Her heart fell. "It's beautiful... I'm afraid I don't have anything for you though."

"You gave me hope for a Malfoy. That's all I need." He rubbed her thumb over her fingers. "This stone will give you truth, Ara."

"What -"

He stared over her shoulder out the crack of the door. "We better go before Peeves flies by to get someone in trouble, namely us."

She wanted to push her question on what he meant. The truth? The stone didn't speak, and wasn't a crystal ball. How could it give truth? Was the accumulating dust in the room effecting him?

He practically pushed her out the door, and they went their separate ways. He went to his common room by the kitchens on the first floor, and Ara went back to hers on the seventh high in a tower.

The common room was empty, the fire long dead in the hearth. She expected that. She was the only one crazy enough to stay up as late as she did. She felt a sense of pride that she could get by with it academically, and otherwise.

No one stirred when she opened the door to her dormitory sliding into bed bringing her writing supplies from the nightstand with her.

_Mom & Dad,_

_I have a lot of work, and I'm going to need Christmas vacation to make it up. I have to get ready for the exams. I know you'll understand mom, so please explain it to dad. We'll celebrate another time. I know you two have been wanting to go to Scotland for a while, so enjoy yourselves. I'll write soon. I love you both._

_With Much Love, Ara_

_Uncle Blaise,_

_I need your help, but you have to swear not to tell mom, or dad! I know now that they hated each other, but I need to know why they married, and why I'm here. There's more than just forgiveness. They aren't telling me something. You're the only one that will. I want you to tell me everything. Please, this is important. To me. Meet me at home a week before Christmas._

_With Much Love, Ara_

She sealed it in an envelope, and fingered her new ring. She would find out what her parents were keeping from her soon enough, but she would find out by her own ingenuity. Not from the gorgeous ring she would always cherish no matter what was to happen.

A/N: Amethyst is a protection, and power stone. I thought it would be the best fit for what it does.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

The Book of Letters

Hogwarts disappeared out the window. Ara watched until the distance took it away. When all she saw were trees topped with white frosting she leaned into her seat. She pulled her coat around herself tighter. It wasn't as cold inside as it was outside, but it was chilly. A few degrees lower, and she would be able to see her breath.

Outside of her compartment door she heard the excited banter of friends. She contemplated how close Thomas was to her, if he was down the train, or in the compartment next to hers. She thought of wandering down the aisle to see if she could spot him. That wasn't a possibility. She made a promise to herself, and to him that they would remain a secret. Thomas insisted that he didn't care, but she knew he did, and she didn't blame him for it.

She fingered her new ring. In a matter of hours she would find out the truth about her father. She was so close to the truth. It wasn't a simple question of whether he was a Death Eater, because if he wasn't it didn't explain why everyone hated her, and if he was why was she there? There was so many questions... Unfortunately they wouldn't be telling her anything.

Aside from Uncle George, Uncle Blaise was the most fun to be around. Unlike Uncle George he knew how to get whatever he wanted information or otherwise without merchandise from the joke shop. He had an extensive amount of knowledge on everything, he could possibly challenge her mother if he wanted.

Ara dozed in her seat until the train jerked to a stop, and she woke. She took the suitcase she kept in her trunk for these trips home, and walked out onto the loading dock. As inconspicuously as she was able to manage she searched for Thomas, but didn't see him. What she did see made her heart leap.

Leaning against a pillar dressed in a warm green sweater, and black trousers was a dark man waving at her, his smile taking up his face.

"Uncle Blaise," she yelled excitedly running up, and hugging him.

"Ara! You look wonderful," he squeezed, "better than I have ever seen you."

She beamed, and pulled away. "Lei dice che ogni anno." _You say that every year._

Uncle Blaise beamed proudly at his niece for speaking Italian, a language he began teaching her once she was talking. "Sì, ma questa volta non sto mentendo." _Yes, but this time I'm not lying._ He winked taking her suitcase. "You do look better."

She changed the subject. There was only one reason she looked better, and that was her time spent with Thomas. It relaxed her, gave her something to look forward to. If her uncle knew about that... He'd be as bad as her dad interrogating the poor boy. No, there was no need to put Thomas through that torture. "You didn't have to pick me up."

"I wasn't going to make you go home by yourself. I'm very proud of you, Ara - defying your parents like this. The way Draco was as a child, he had this coming."

She laughed as they fell casually through the barrier, and out into the sunny muggle world. Uncle Blaise pointed to his new car, silver, and sleek. He placed her suitcase in the boot, and they climbed in the front.

"You'll tell me? Everything?"

The engine purred, and he pulled out haphazardly. He was never a careful driver. "I think your parents should've told you long ago. It wasn't right of them to send you off to school thinking things will be normal for you."

"Why aren't they?"

"I can't tell you it all."

Ara crossed her arms over her chest. "Why not," she growled.

He grinned. "I'm going to let you _read_ some of it."

"Read?"

"Their relationship is written out in letters. It began with letters."

"They went to school together -"

"And they hated each other, you're right. The hate was deeper than you can imagine, Ara. It takes a great heart - your mother's heart, and a miracle that you're here. Very few of your family liked your dad, or still likes him."

She didn't have to wait until she got home to ask the question. Right then could be as good of a time as any. "Is he a Death Eater?"

"No," he answered too quickly.

She narrowed her eyes noticing that she gave the present tense. "_Was _he?"

"My niece, it's part of the story."

She let out a shaky breath. "He was."

"C'è un sacco che non capite," he said darkly. _There's a lot you don't understand._

"He was," she cried wishing he would deny it. "He was a Death Eater! How many did he kill?! How many muggles? How many muggle-borns like my mum!" She felt herself losing control. She couldn't keep it together, she was falling apart.

Uncle Blaise's jaw twitched, it clenched tight his knuckles pale on the steering wheel he gripped. "He loves your mother. More than you can imagine at your age, he loves her!"

"I don't believe it!"

"How can you not?!"

Tears streamed down her cheeks remembering the way he looked at her. The way she looked at him. It was like there was no one else in the room much less the world. They were good liars, though. Death Eater's made a life out of it. Lying. Lies, and murderers. Her father... How could he? "I thought that maybe... There was a logical explanation..."

"There is."

"No... I can see that now there can't be an explanation. There's no reason for him to be that!"

"Si crede che il tuo padre è il male?" _You believe your father is evil?_

"È?" _Is he?_

He shook his head. "Avete molto da imparare." _You have a lot to learn._

The roads, houses, and lights blurred past her. She would hold herself together until they got home. She could manage that much, but then she was heaving, gasping for breath. Her eyes strained to keep in the prickling tears.

With a sharp serve Uncle Blaise pulled to the side of the road, unbuckled his seatbelt, and leaned over taking her in his arms. He rubbed her back sympathetically. She became hot against his sweater, but she didn't dare move.

"Everything will be explained."

"I hate him," she declared.

"You love him, he loves you too. Don't say that, not when you don't understand -"

"What's there to understand?"

"He didn't kill anyone, Ara." He took a breath. "He may have... Regrets... Guilt... But he never killed anyone."

"They all do - "

"No," he snapped. "They don't."

"You're only saying that because he's your best mate."

He stiffened, and turned around stretching his seatbelt, and clicking it in place. "Be patient, and you'll soon know everything."

Ara waited in the car as they drove home, and then she waited in the sitting room of her quaint blue house. She watched the snow fall gently out of the large arced windows coating the dead grass. Looking at the beautifully decorated tree in gold made her feel a little sad about tricking her parents. She was a horrible daughter, but she saw no way, and if worse came to worse her Uncle Blaise would still be proud of her.

Minutes after he left Uncle Blaise came down the staircase to sit next to her, and handed her a plain black leather book. She felt the binding worriedly. Once she opened the book she would know things she had suddenly been asking herself since she met Thomas, the only person she cared about hating her. Though he didn't, she couldn't live then without knowing why everyone else did.

"It's okay... Open it."

"Will you be here?"

As an answer he kicked off his boots, and rested his feet on the glass coffee table leaning his head on the back of her head. He smiled encouragingly.

She opened the book.

_They loved each other more than they hated. They would give anything, and everything to be together. Through the fights, tears, secrets, lies, and truths they would make it. Nothing would stop them. A Slytherin, and a Gryffindor. A Malfoy, and a Granger. A story of hatred, remorse, retribution, forgiveness, friendship, and love. A never ending._

_This book is a gift to my best friend, my love, my wife. This is to be handed down through the generations, worth more than any weight of gold._

The words, "fights, tears, secrets, lies, and truths," jumped out of the page as if they were bolded, and in capitals. She turned the page.

_Ms. Granger,_

_We all seek retribution. It almost feels like it's the reason we are here. Some of us live to make mistakes, to hurt, and suffer, cause pain, to turn around, and take the blunt punishment we feel we deserve. That is me. You, on the other hand, are quite different. You are the one who does good, and suffers the injustice later. Most would give up, but you kept going. There can be no words, not even in poetic symbolism to say how greatly I admire that._

_This is my attempt at retribution, something only you can give me a chance at. I'm deeply sorry for being the cause of so many problems, for careless, and thoughtless words. Sorry isn't enough to repair the damage I've done, but it's the best I can do for now. I'd blame my linage if I could, but I can't stand being a hypocrite. In addition I'm sorry that I can't sign my name. I won't insult your intelligence, somewhere inside of you, you know who I am, but forgive me, I'm not ready to reveal myself. Retribution is a long road, after all._

_You're not obligated to write me. In fact I don't expect a response, but this is my first step to reconciliation. Granted it's not with you, I could never hope for that. I'm being selfish asking for things I shouldn't, and the wish to forgive myself one day. Writing you is only hope that someone, the very person that shouldn't, may be able to forgive me, too._

_An Old Enemy_

_My Old Enemy,_

_If you mean what you write then I'll be happy to oblige. Whatever you may have done to me in the past is forgiven. It shouldn't be so easy, but it is. My adventures have taught me that hate is a wasted feeling. It can be felt, and may take no work at all, but to dwell on it, and let it eat you is a foolish thing to do._

_I know you. Maybe not well, and maybe not at all, but on some level. I can guess a name, and mind you, I'd probably be right, but I won't try. We all deserve to have some anonymity through life. It's a way to let go of the expectations a name may bind you to._

_So with that in mind, feel free to write me. You can simply write about you, or your day, or nothing at all. If you'd like I'll be your confidante, but only if you choose._

_Granger_

Ara flipped through the pages devouring the words. "Neither of them could sleep," she pondered more to herself than to her uncle beside her, but he replied nonetheless.

"The first good nights sleep they had was with each other."

She focused on the book, and saw words that made her insides shrivel.

_The dark lord is gone, the remaining Death Eaters are being caught. I feel stuck in the middle. I don't belong to either side, and while I'm not being charged I continue to suffer my punishment by memories I have no right to grieve over._

"Stuck in the middle?" She bit her lip thoughtfully. What did that mean? Was he not involved in the war at all? Was he a Death Eater that backed out at the last moment? They would've killed him for sure...

Uncle Blaise leaned over her shoulder to look at the words she was referring to. He nodded understanding. "Keep reading, Ara. I'll explain it to you after you're finished."

She did as he said reading secrets, and confessions. Then stopped when she reached a confession of her mother's. Flying outside with a man. She pointed the sentence out to her uncle. He laughed.

"That would be your father. They continued to write letters to each other like that."

"That's... Weird."

"That's your parents."

She smiled, and went to the next page, and saw the words "I love you" written by both of them. Her smile widened, but faded completely at the page after.

_My Dear Hermione,_

_A thousand apologizes, flowers, a brand new start to a friendship... Nothing can make up for what I did. I did it for a reason. It's ironic that I had to hurt you to save you. I can't live with knowing that I recreated your worst nightmare, because of my selfishness. This is the end. I won't cause you any more pain. They will take care of you, you're loved, and this will get me through the rest of my days to know that you are safe. Be happy, and sleep soundly._

_With What's Left, Draco_

"He left her," she choked out. "My dad left my mum."

Uncle Blaise shook his head. "He came back."

"And?"

"And then your mother left him," he admitted reluctantly.

"What?"

"Then she came after him. Some months later when she was pregnant with you she left again. And she came back. They haven't left each other since."

Her head was spinning. How many times could a couple abandon each other, but still love one another? "When she was pregnant with me..."

Uncle Blaise slid the book from her hands. "Listen to me, Ara, and listen well. First of all - they love each other, never doubt that because it'll never change. But yes they hated each other in school. Your father became a Death Eater when he was sixteen. He followed in his father's footsteps. Your mother fought alongside Harry. Your grandfather was sent to jail, and Narcissa went free for her help to Harry in the end. Harry couldn't lock up his classmate, because your father was supposed to kill the headmaster. He didn't. He tried, but he couldn't do it, because Draco is not a killer, and Harry recognized that. He went through the war fighting - don't underestimate his cowardness. But he knew of what he done. He realized he had the wrong side all along. That he had been fighting for the people that killed the person he loved most... His sister, Ara."

"Ara," she whispered her name.

"You were named after her. She was very young when Voldemort murdered her in front of her family, in front of Draco, and even me."

Tears blurred her vision. It was horrible. She didn't know whether to be angry at her father, or feel bad for him. A rush of mixed emotions ran through her, and she listened on.

"The first, and only person Draco wrote to was Hermione. You were reading their letters. He wanted her to know him as a person, not as the bully he once was. And she did. They fell in love."

"Why did he leave her then?"

"During the war your mother, Harry, and Ron were all kidnapped and taken to the Manor. Hermione was tortured, and was cut on the neck by Bellatrix. Draco watched this happen, and it reminded him of his sister. That's what changed him for good. He had enough experience by then to know."

"He saved her?"

"No, Ron, and Harry did. I told you - don't underestimate his cowardness."

"How can you love someone, and watch them - "

"Listen Ara," he reminded her. "It happened again. Draco wanted her to meet his mother, but Lucius got there first... Lucius never turned on the dark arts. He threw Hermione in the dungeon, and attempted to change his son. Draco pretended, and when he had to prove his loyalty to his father... He tortured Hermione - "

"He WHAT?" Ara jumped from the sofa tears streaking her face, and neck. "M-my d-dad?"

Uncle Blaise snatched her hands dragging her to the sofa again. "He did it to save her. That's what he was talking about in the letter. He had to catch Lucius off-guard, and he... Didn't. Lucius tortured him shortly before I got there, and stopped it. Your mother had spent weeks there. She was very sick, and had to learn to walk, and do things she normally did on a daily basis. She wrote your father many times, but he couldn't forgive himself and thought that it would be best to let her go..."

He told her of how her mother found out that she was pregnant with her, how she walked from her father. How she went back. How Uncle Seamus loved her - he proposed even, and she chose her dad in the end. Narcissa, her grandmother she knew from stories died. Her dad was crushed, and her mom left him. That's how the book was formed, it was made in order to win her again, and it worked.

At the end of the too-long story that told her everything she wanted to know, and more, her crying had ceased. But she was sore, and was hurting in every way possible. She took the book from him hoping to see some shred of evidence after the awful letter. She read of her father's depression, how it tore them both up to be apart from each other. She read the poem, the song, and knew that somehow they loved each other. It didn't take the pain she was feeling. She threw the book at her uncle, and he caught it pitching it to the coffee table.

She closed her eyes, and she got to her feet. She stayed rooted to the spot unable to move. "He was a Death Eater..."

"The world isn't made up of just good people. There are those out there that are yes - Death Eater's. Some sought forgiveness like your father, others live their lives by the old ways. It isn't always pretty, but I believe you old enough to understand that."

When she didn't - couldn't say anything he went on.

"Perché volete sapere, Ara? Perché ora?"_ Why did you want to know, Ara? Why now?_

"C'è un ragazzo a scuola." _There's a boy at school..._

His eyes grew round, and expectant. Protective.

"He's very nice," she said before he bombered her with questions as to who he was. "He doesn't hate me... I had to know what it was that he could see past. He told me that my dad was a Death Eater but... I had to know for sure. If there could be a mistake. Now I know there wasn't," she broke.

He rubbed his forehead. "We all make mistakes... Can you forgive your dad for this?"

"I... I don't know."

Uncle Blaise stood, and touched her cheek. Then something unexpected happened. There was a bright violet light, a static charge erupted in the air, and when she could see she saw her uncle on the floor screaming, and writhing as if in the worst pain of his life. She bent next to him, and laid her hand on his arm, but the screams became worse, they were croaked, and piercing. Automatically she let go.

"Uncle Blaise? Uncle?" She refined from touching him again.

He didn't respond, his eyes wide, but unseeing. "Gyspy," she bellowed the houself's name. "Gypsy help!"

A/N: I will point out again that I do not speak a speck of Italian. It is all done by a translator. My apologies goes out to any mistakes that are made.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

The Dark Mark Electrified

Healers in lime green robes moved around the very still girl. She was a statue staring at the double wide doors leading down a hall of the sickly. She waited, and tried not to cry.

Something happened to Uncle Blaise. She did something. When they touched it physically pained him beyond belief. It was her fault that he was in there, and she didn't know why. What did she do? Without her permission a single tear slid down her cheek. She lied to her parents, she sent her uncle in St. Mungo's, and her father was an ex-Death Eater. Her grandfather whom she assumed was dead for so many years like her grandmother was in Azkaban. It was no wonder why no one wanted anything to do with her. She was cursed.

"Ara!"

By the front doors her parents came running towards her. They picked her up, and hugged her tightly. She flinched afraid to hurt anyone, and stepped back from them.

"What happened," her mom insisted.

"I - I don't know. Uncle Blaise touched my cheek, and then there was a light, a crack, and he was lying on the floor screaming. I - I didn't mean to do anything, I -"

"It's okay," she soothed running her hand over her hair. "This isn't your fault."

"But -"

"Ara," her dad said harshly, "you didn't do this. If this is anyone's fault it's your nutter of an uncle. Where is he?"

"They say I'm not family," she mumbled, "they won't let me see him, or tell me where they put him..."

Her mom pressed her in the seat. "How did you get here? You told us you were staying at Hogwarts to study."

She bit her lip. "I lied. I asked Uncle Blaise to meet me at the house so I could... I wanted to know if..."

"What is it, dear?"

She looked to her dad, his expression genuinely concerned. She reached for his right arm curling her fingers over his sleeve. She pulled it up. He wrenched out of her grasp, but not before she saw the black skull, the snake slithering out of the mouth. She cringed, and jerked away herself. She felt sick, disgusted.

"Ara," her mother half-scolded holding her shoulders, restraining her from running. "It's -"

"The Dark Mark, you don't have to tell me. I know. I know what you are. Uncle Blaise told me."

"Were," he corrected. "It's what I _was_." Her dad pierced her with his intense gaze, the eyes so much like her own. "You don't understand -"

"I know everything! I read the book."

Her dad staggered as if he was slapped. "I better go see to Blaise," but the way he said it made it sound like a threat. He walked to the counter across the room talking with the young blond witch popping pink bubble gum in her mouth. Then he was led through the doors, not glancing at her once.

"That was uncalled her," her mother fussed sitting beside her.

Ara was too upset to worry about hurting her father's feelings. "How could you marry him? After all he did?!"

"Don't say that in front of Ron, or he will think you are Seamus' daughter." She chuckled at an old joke that she told her daughter years ago when Ara asked for the story of her birth. She wished she didn't ask shortly after. "Couldn't believe it anyway, you're too much like your father. Though I suppose this is a bit of myself too. Finding out secrets. I'm surprised you haven't done this years ago."

"I didn't care about it until... There's a boy at school. He doesn't hate me, mum - not like everyone else."

"They hate you." It wasn't a question. She glowered at her hands wringing in her lap. "Your father wanted you to be home schooled, but we couldn't hide you forever. Eventually the world would have to accept you. The sad fact is that they don't. I'm sorry about that, Ara. Who is this boy?"

"Thomas Diggory."

"Diggory..." She furrowed her brows in deep thought. "Did he mention a brother?"

"Cedric," she nodded.

She smiled sadly. "I remember him... A very nice boy, very handsome. I suppose Thomas would look an awful lot like him."

"I guess so..."

Her mom wrapped her arms around her shoulders, and squeezed. "We didn't do this to hurt you - to punish you. We didn't mean for any of this to happen, but _please_ don't blame your father. Don't hate him. He had a hard time accepting his past, and when you were born... You became the light of his life, you're his sun. He loves you so much, he'd do anything for you. If he could give you a better present from his past he would."

"How did you forgive him?"

"When he asked for my forgiveness he meant it. And I'd already fallen in love with him. Do you think you'd be here any other way?"

"I don't know anything anymore..."

Before her mom responded to that her dad poked his head out of one of the doors, and motioned for them to follow him. Taking her hand they walked with him through the bleached white hallways, the glinting tiles annoyingly bright.

Three hallways later her dad guided them into a room as white as the hallways. There was only one bed, he curtains hanging on iron hangers was pulled to the side revealing the zombie version of Uncle Blaise.

She wanted to run out, but that would be cowardice. Then again it would make sense. It was something she might have inherited from her father, the ultimate coward.

"Uncle Blaise - "

"Don't, Ara. I'm fine."

Her expression was pained. "What did I do?"

"You didn't do anything."

"See? I told you," her father whispered, but she took no comfort in it.

Uncle Blaise's dark eyes locked on her left hand where her ring was. He narrowed his eyes, and glanced to her dad. "Draco mate, get away from her."

"Excuse me?"

"Do it."

Reluctantly her father took several steps back.

"Ara, che cosa è che anello?" _Ara, what's that ring?_

"Ametista...?" _Amethyst...?_

"Da dove viene?" _Where did you get it?_

"Un amico a scuola." _A friend at school._

Her dad stared at her in a peculiar way as if trying to determine whether she was lying, or not.

Understanding dawned on her mother's face. "Oh! The stone of power, and protection! Do you think there was a spell placed on it?"

Uncle Blaise nodded. "I know there was."

Ara looked from her father, to her mother, to her uncle. Each of them were in their own thoughts not bothering to explain it to her. She took a careful step towards the bed. "What's going on?"

Uncle Blaise blinked returning from his daydreams. "Take the ring off, Ara. Put it in your pocket."

She did as she was told.

"Come here - take my hand," he reached for her.

"No," she said. "What if -"

"It won't happen again. I wouldn't let you if I thought it would. It's not the most pleasant feeling. Take my hand," he ordered a second time.

Very cautiously she touched his palm. Nothing happened. There wasn't any light, or electrical charge. It was calm in the private room.

"I don't understand," she admitted as his hand twisted to hold hers.

"That ring of yours has a powerful curse on it that's power is enhanced by it's stone. When that ring touches the bare skin of someone with the Dark Mark... You saw what it did... I reckon that it was handed down. Not many know that curse anymore."

It clicked. Three puzzle pieces fit perfectly together. Thomas told her it would give her truth. He knew about the curse. He knew that if she touched her dad with the ring that it would do that to him. As mad as she was at him she felt sick to her stomach.

Her only friend was attacking her family, because of what one of them once was. It was a raw deal, but it was typical. Only something so horrid could happen to her. She was a magnet for hatred.

The third piece of the puzzle. The ring injured only those with the Dark Mark. That meant her uncle was...

"Sei un Mangiamorte Morte," she hushed wrenching her hand from him. _You're a Death Eater._

Uncle Blaise smoothed the creases of his blanket out. "Era." _Was._

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"You wanted to know about your parents, not about me."

"You knew I would want to know!" Her mom held her arms in a restricting, yet comforting manner. She paid her no mind, it was busy with the situation at hand. "Vi ha mentito a me troppo." _You lied to me too._

"I didn't tell you sooner because your parents preferred me not to. I promised them I wouldn't."

"I see you made good on it," her dad growled at him.

"She's fifteen-years-old, Draco! How long did you expect to keep it from her? I'm surprised she hasn't found out before now!"

"Honestly, I am too," her mom agreed.

Uncle Blaise turned to her. "Vi ho detto che non tutti i Mangiamorte hanno ucciso. Suo padre, e mi sono stati uno dei pochi che non lo facevano. Egli è stata data la possibilità di farlo, e lui non ha. Se mi è stata data la scelta non credo che sarei in grado di entrambi." _I told you that not all Death Eaters have killed. Your father, and I were one of the few that didn't. He was given the chance to do it, and he didn't. If I was given the choice I don't think I'd be able to either. _"Keep that in mind when you're judging us."

Ara didn't respond, but she stepped forward, and embraced her uncle tightly. "I'm sorry about the ring, Uncle Blaise."

"No worries," he assured holding her.

* * *

They stayed at St. Mungo's until the Healer's rushed them out the door. It was late at night by then, the moon high in the inky black sky. No one spoke until they were inside, and her father saw the book he gave to her mother on the floor. He picked it up flipping it over in his hands. "I hope you got the information you wanted."

"I did."

Her mom sighed muttering something about making tea. Before she vanished behind the door to the kitchen behind her she laid a hand on her daughter's shoulder clutching it for a second. The clinking of glasses being made in the kitchen was the only sound to fill the silence for a good while.

Ara, and her dad stood at each end of the room. She hit the toe of her trainers against the cherry wood floor, and her father gazed at the book. She thought of going up to her room. Was there be a slight chance that she would wake up tomorrow to find that none of it ever happened?

Her dad finally crossed the room, and brandished the book angrily in her face. "If you read this book then you know that I love your mother."

She kept her eyes locked over his shoulder at the opposing wall. "I can't think of another reason you'd marry her."

The book was thrown to the sofa, and he shot a lethal look at her. "You think it could be for any other reason? Do you doubt me that much?"

She stared straight at him. "You've lied to me my entire life! How can I _not_ doubt you! You were out to rid people like my mother, and me. I'm a half-blood, dad! Does that disgust you? Did you feel sick when you married my mum?"

His red face would make a Weasley proud. "How dare you, Ara" he seethed. "I tried to protect you! That's the _only_ reason I didn't tell you! If I hated Muggle's as much as I did when I was your age I wouldn't have married her. I wouldn't have had you. How can you think that, Ara?"

"You were a Death Eater..."

"I can't make up for what I was, or what I did..." Breaking the seriousness he chuckled. "Your mother is the smartest witch of her age. Do you think she would marry me if I hadn't changed?"

It made sense. Her worst fear had been confirmed, but her hopes had been true. She instantly felt terrible for her actions. She had been acting like a classic brat. It was hard to swallow, but how could it not be true? "I'm sorry dad... For everything." She hugged him around his middle. He hugged her too.

"I'm sorry too... We shouldn't have sent you to Hogwarts."

"You shouldn't have let me go to Hogwarts without telling me."

"Do you want us to home school you?"

"No... I can't hide away forever."

"You're your mother's child."

"I'm my father's too," she grinned, then frowned. "Dad... There's someone I want to see before I go back..."

"Who?"

She mentally readied herself for the argument, disappointment, or both that was sure to come. While he was alive she had to see him. To let him know how horrible he failed. Her celebration for her victory. "Grandpa."

In spite of his pale complexion he appeared to be further washed out. "Sweetheart... He doesn't denounce the dark arts, he won't understand you. To be honest he doesn't know you exist."

"I figured... I think he should know that he has a half-blood granddaughter."

"Adding fuel to the fire."

"I want him to know that he's the last in his precious pureblood line."

He laughed heartily. "You are my child. Fine, then we'll go -"

"I want to go alone. I want to face him by myself."

"Not an option, I won't -"

"Please, I have to do this. I have to face him on my own. It's my past too, dad. If you don't want to see him then let Uncle Harry come with me."

He brushed her cheek with his knuckles. "If you have to... Harry has to go there tomorrow morning. I'll owl him, and tell him we're coming along."

"We?"

"You know the story, don't you, Ara? Blaise told you about what happened to your mum?"

She understood what he was getting at. "We're not going to the Manor. He won't have his wand with him."

"That doesn't matter," he said harshly. "I'm not taking any more chances."

She kissed his cheek happily, undeterred by his attitude. "Thank you!"


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

Azkaban Prison

It was a small dry island made of rocks in the middle of the ocean. No matter where someone stood they would be able to hear the waves lapping, and crashing. It was a constant roaring. The air was salty, and damp with seawater strong enough to taste.

Auror's in black with their hoods up stood around each of the small one room quarters. All of them were drab gray, and black with iron bars at the windows. They were dark inside. There wasn't even a candle to warm them.

Uncle Harry, and her dad walked at her side. The yelling, and threats strangely echoed in her eardrums. Her father, and uncle stared straight ahead not bothered by it all, and so she did the same. She pretended that she didn't understand what they were saying about them, or her.

Painted red like blood on the side of the buildings were numbers. They walked until they reached a building that didn't have numbers on it, but it was identical to the others. She suppose that will be where she met with him.

"He doesn't know who he's seeing," Uncle Harry explained, the humid air making his hair wilder than she ever seen it so it made it appear as if he was constantly surprised by everything. "We'll be right here, yell if you need us. Come out when you're ready, okay?"

Ara nodded not trusting herself enough to speak. Her father looked as if he wanted to take her back home, and he glared out in the endless sea. Uncle Harry jerked his head to the door signaling her to go in.

Inside there was a wooden table, and two unsteady chairs in the center of a brick room. In one of those chairs was a lean man. Receding baby blond hair, sunken cheeks that showed how sharp his cheekbones were, and... Her eyes. Her father's eyes. She sucked in a breath, and sat across from him.

Lucius leaned forward. "Who may I ask are you?" His voice was raspy. It obviously hadn't been used in ages.

"My name is Ara Malfoy."

His eyes widened, and he tinged a ailing green. "You are not Ara," he said low, and dangerous. It was boarding on warning her not to say the name again, and daring her.

She ignored hi ominous tone. "I am. My name is Ara Narcissa Malfoy. I'm Draco, and Hermione's daughter. Your granddaughter."

Through clenched teeth he hissed, "you are not my grandchild. No filthy half-breed is a grandchild of mine. I don't have a son!"

She smiled her smile that her father always said reminded him of her aunt, the one that could light up a room. He was now perched on the end of his seat teetering on the verge of lunging at her. Then she spoke the words that made Lucius Malfoy come undone, the words that she knew would. "I have your eyes."

He leapt to his feet pointing a shaking finger at her. "Liar," he screamed. "Liar! You dirty, despicable liar! You bitch!"

The door banged open her father storming in, his wand raised at Lucius, Uncle Harry at his heels. "Enough!" He charged his father to a wall his wand pointing under his chin. "You will _not_ speak to my daughter that way!"

Lucius' eyes glinted, and he barked a laugh. "Mr. Potter, will you kindly take this man off of me, as you know it's law not to harm the convicts when there has been no threat made."

Uncle Harry slammed the door behind him, specks of dust, and dirt floating from the ceiling on their heads. "You did make a threat."

"I do not recall -"

"If you were a parent you'd know that yelling at one's child like that is considered a threat. There is no law that says I have to restrain him. There _is_ a law that says I can castigate you."

"You may not be afraid of me, father," her dad spat, "but you should be."

"I'm afraid of no one -"

"You're afraid of having a half-blood daughter. Look at her, father. Look at her eyes. She has your eyes. She laughs like mum, and smiles like my sister."

"Don't you dare speak of my wife, and daughter!"

"_My_ mum, _my _sister. _You_ have no right to speak of them. You locked my mum in a room while you tortured Hermione, and me! You stood there, and watched as Voldemort killed my sister! You're lucky that I don't kill you right now!"

At those words Uncle Harry bounded at them wrenching her dad back. "I'll have no way of explaining why you killed him, Draco. You can't kill the inmates."

Lucius sneered. "I'm untouchable -"

Uncle Harry's wand was at his throat before he could finish whatever it was he was going to say. "_He_ can't kill you, but I can, and I will. I have many reasons for doing it, and everyone will understand."

"Like what?"

"You tried to murder my best friend," he said matter-of-factly. "The only reason I haven't killed you yet is because I want you to suffer. Remember this, remember that your son married a muggle-born, and had a half-blood daughter with your eyes. I hope it eats at you. I hope you see her face when you sleep."

"Draco is a shame upon our pureblood line. He has ruined what we worked so hard for."

Ara felt her blood boil as he talked about her dad. She felt her pocket feeling something small, and round. That morning there was an instinctive feeling that she would need it, and she learned from her parents to trust her gut. She slid the Diggory's ring on her finger, and marched forward. She stopped inches from him. Uncle Harry, and her dad tensed worried for her being that close.

Lucius' expression was nothing less of finding waste at the bottom of what would've been his shiny shoes. "Get away from me."

She reached out, and grasped his arm. There was a crack, and bright light, and Lucius was on the floor screaming, the sound reverberating. This time she didn't let go. She kept her hand on him, and saw between her fingers that he was burning red, and blistering.

Her dad made to grab at her, but Uncle Harry shoved him with a warning glaze. He knew about the ring. He grasped her shoulder with one hand, the other prying her fingers off of her grandfather's arm. He dragged her to the door pushing her out, and leaving Lucius in screaming pain. Her dad was close behind them.

"I'm in trouble, aren't I?" She imagined being locked up in one of the buildings, screaming like Lucius was screaming, or yelling in a trapped desperate way that the others were. It sent shivers like ice down her spine. The cool air didn't help as it crept under the sleeves of her robe.

"No," her uncle assured. "Of course not."

"Better not be," her dad added loftily. "Ara, my daughter, I've never been prouder of you."

She beamed pocketing the ring once more safely away from anyone's skin. Perhaps the ring wasn't so terrible after all.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

Meaner Than Hufflepuff's

Christmas was over. Ara received many wonderful presents from her family. A locket from her mom, and a new broom from her dad. As usual when she got a new broom she had to hear from her dad about trying out for Quidditch preferably as a Seeker as he had once been. Too bad for him his dream would never come true. Like her mother she hated heights. She never wavered from her three feet above the ground when she flew. It drove her father insane.

However, not as insane as when she told him about her dating a Diggory. She had her own misgivings thinking about the ring he gave her (different from her father's). She loathed him for it, but there was a part of her that wondered that he may have a good explanation. Her dad had his for marrying her mother...

"A Hufflepuff," he exclaimed in anger.

"He's a nice guy, dad."

"Of course they're nice, they're a load of duffers! No backbone at all!"

"Draco," her mother scolded him.

"It's the truth! Oh, Ara, why couldn't you date a... A...

"Slytherin?"

"Hell no! Don't you ever think about dating a Slytherin!"

"You're a Slytherin."

"Which is why I'm telling you not to date them! I know how they are... Why can't you date a... A Ravenclaw?"

"A Gryffindor," her mom offered. "What's wrong with a Gryffindor - not that I'm saying anything's wrong with a Hufflepuff. The Diggory's are a very nice family. I know they don't like us, but... They're nice."

"Because Gryffindors are... They're..." He stumbled over his words.

She folded her arms in challenge. "Go on."

Her dad stuttered, and that set an age old fight of houses. Ara had slinked off to the kitchen for a snack hearing about bravery, cowardice, slithering, and stupidity. None of that having to do with Hufflepuffs. She didn't see the big deal. Neville married a Hufflepuff. They weren't all bad, and defiantly not all duffer's. Thomas was smart, his marks nearly as good as hers.

The wonderful fact about her dad was that he couldn't stay mad at her for long. Before the day was over with he pretended that the name 'Diggory,' and 'dating' was not put in the same sentence much less said in their house. She deliberated if he was being unreasonable, but wasn't going to fight with him again. When she left her mother would talk with him, calm him down. She was good at that. He listened to her.

She sat on the train thinking her Christmas holiday over. It was routine, the same as every year, but not less nice. She loved spending a day with her extended family. That year it was the Potter's turn to have everyone over. The house was chaotic as it normally was, filled to the brim with people, and she loved it. Albey had cornered her as soon as she got in the door, and she explained as she promised she would. As well as she could to someone that young. She left out a lot of details that he wouldn't be interested in, and cut straight through to the main point. Her surname had been ruined a long time ago by some bad men. She didn't even mention that those bad men happened to be her ancestors.

"Why don't you change your name?" His face glowed as he suggested, "you could change your name to Potter!"

Her dad overheard that, and said loudly, "no bloody way!"

Despite the slight offense Christmas went on jovially. An unintended offense was said every year. It was nothing new especially when Uncle Ron, and Uncle Seamus were there. For a reason she never understood until hearing Blaise's story they didn't get along with her father. It was awkward to be around Uncle Seamus knowing he had loved her mother at a point in her life, and she found herself curiously watching him to see if any of those feelings remained. It didn't seem so, but it had been fifteen years, of course none of his feelings remained although he had yet to marry someone himself.

Ara was in her compartment for a good hour before the door opened. She only heard the sliding of it not breaking the stride of her reading, her book high in front of her face. She assumed it was Albey sneaking some time with her before going to his Malfoy-hating mates.

"Albey," she greeted. "Remember our deal." Yes, the deal she made with him. They could be friends outside of school, but they had to have a student-student professional relationship while they were at Hogwarts.

"It's me," said a much deeper voice than Albey's.

Ara lowered her book, and saw Thomas standing awkwardly in front of the closed door. His hands were deep in the pocket of his jeans. He hadn't changed into his school robe yet.

"What do you want," she demanded cruelly. The dislike she felt for him over her holiday break unexpectedly increased at the sight of him. How could he know that he caused so much trouble for her? He was about to find out she decided...

"I told my friends I went to ask the conductor a question. I wanted to see you. How did your break go?"

With a loud slap she slammed her book down. Thomas raised a perfect brow at this. Her hands clenched to fists in her lap. "How dare you give me a gift that would harm my family!"

"I -" He shook his head and began again, "I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about."

"The ring! The ring you gave me before I went home! It electrifies anyone with the Dark Mark! Uncle Blaise was sent to St. Mungo's!" She was becoming hysterical at the memory of it. She wanted to take her wand from her pocket, and curse the Diggory git right out the ruddy door!

Thomas continued to remain confused. "I didn't know it did that! All I knew is that it would tell who was a Death Eater. Thought it would glow when in close contact! I'm sorry, Ara. It was something passed down to me, I didn't know it's meaning."

"There seems to be a lot you don't know." She ignored the voice in her head reminding her of what Uncle Blaise hinted, that her friend might not even know what it was. As the vision of him squirming on the floor repeated itself she didn't care. She suddenly didn't care about any good reason he might've had.

"I'm sorry. I'm very sorry. What can I do to make this better?"

"There's nothing you can do to make this better!"

"I know, but give me a chance here to try!"

She examined his expression. He was truly sorry, there was no way she could think not. When she realized that it was hard to be angry at him. She wanted to be mad, she wanted to fight, and tell him to get lost. She couldn't.

Out of curiosity, or concern, or because he was afraid of the look she was giving him he changed the subject. "Did you find out what you needed to?'

"What you said was true... But he loves my mum, and me. I read the letters they sent each other, and... They really love each other."

He smiled. "I'm glad. Now you can get on with your life."

She laughed for it was funny. He made it sound as though her life stopped with the prospect of having a Death Eater for a father. Sure, it preoccupied her thoughts, and it lead to disastrous, and wonderful results. She knew her past, but it didn't change who she was, or how people felt about her. No mater what she learned she was doomed to live her life as an outcast. She had come to accept that. So why was it punching her down, and in physical reaction to it she collapsed on the seat.

Thomas rushed to her side, an arm wrapped around her waist. "What's wrong?"

"There's nothing to move on from. Things haven't changed, Thomas."

"What're you talking about? Things _have_ changed."

"Like what?"

"I'm here..." He touched her cheek smiling. "And I'm not going anywhere. I'll always be your friend, and maybe I'll be..." His lips caressed her forehead. "Something more."

"We can't... It can't become anything. We'll always be secret..."

"It doesn't have to be that way -"

"You're not losing your friends - your reputation over me! They won't understand... You're popular, don't ruin that."

"Popularity. Is that all that's important to you? There's a lot more to life than that. It's not all that it's cracked up to be. There are expectations of you, and you face disappointment every day if you don't fulfill them. You should realize how lucky you are, Ara. You don't face that, you can live your life how you want it. It's freeing. You don't see it that way, but I do."

She ground her teeth in frustration. He didn't understand, never once did she care to be popular. She assumed it was important to him. "Go see to your friends. They'll be looking for you, and they can't find you here."

He breathed across her ear. "What if they do?"

"Then you lose everything."

"Because that's so much better than losing you?"

"Yes."

"Since you're not the one at risk of losing I have to say that it's not." Gently his lips swept hers in their first kiss, a tingle from where he touched.

It barely lasted a second when the door crashed opened. They jerked apart, and saw Vince Smith, a stout boy with the nose of a pig. He was grinning like a sly cat with a mouse.

Thomas stood looking a lot taller than his fellow Hufflepuff. "What is it, Vince?"

"Conductor," he scoffed. "Knew you were up to something, and with..." He glared Ara from head to foot, and back again. "Is this... This is the Malfoy girl. And you were..." He smirked joyfully. "Oh, you have been busy haven't you, Thomas?"

He sidestepped him, and held open the door. "You must be dying to tell about this, so go on. I'll be there in a few to straighten out the lies I'm sure you'll tell."

Not deterred in the least, Vince went to the door, but stopped to wink at her. "I suppose when you're a Malfoy you have to take what you can get. That's how it is now, isn't it?"

"Get out," Thomas snarled instantly shoving him out into the aisle, and shutting the door in his face.

Ara watched this exchange holding back the stinging tears that were ready to fall. "You can do better than me," she informed.

He took her hand in his hand kissing it. "There's no one better than you, Ara Malfoy."

She fought the smile, and blush. "I can name three-hundred that are better than me."

"We're not going by your count."

"Then lets go by yours," she challenged.

"There's only you."

Her heart fluttered at that. He wasn't going to give her up. There was no words in the world that could describe how she felt in that moment. She had a friend - she had... Someone that cared enough to defy the Wizarding society as a whole. A Malfoy, and a Diggory. No one would have ever guessed.

* * *

News traveled fast in Hogwarts. Somehow by the time Ara was off the train everyone knew. She felt like breaking some bones in Smith for his ill-controlled mouth, but she couldn't be suspended. Her parents would die of shame.

It took a lot of willpower to walk past Pritchard, and Higgs when they insulted her, and Thomas. Of course she wasn't able resist pushing by them, their weak stance, and clumsiness making them trip, and fall.

All the way up to the castle she was gawked at. She hurried into her common room where she figured she could find tranquility. Instead everyone stopped what they were doing whether it was writing, talking, or in the midst of a game of Exploding Snap, and turned to stare at her. It was quiet enough that a quill could be heard if one was to drop. Did they expect a speech from the recluse? Yes, that's exactly what they wanted.

"All of you are pathetic," she started, a few mouths gaping open. "My father made mistakes, but am I not proof enough that he's changed? That it's possible? You judge me for a past I wasn't born to witness. I've been shunned since my first year here. Say what you want of me, but if you're going to judge Thomas Diggory then you can judge him on his stand-up character. He has been the only one to speak to me like I'm a human being. I'm a Malfoy, and I'm proud of it."

A lanky girl stood from the sofa her hands outstretched to her. "A lovely speech by the future Death Eater, Ara Malfoy."

A feeble applause trickled through the crowd their expressions unchanging.

Spinning on her heels Ara bolted for the portrait. She took three whole steps before she collided with someone who grabbed her waist to keep her from falling. She clutched the person's arms to keep herself upright. She peered up at the gray eyes she loved.

"Gryffindor's are meaner than Hufflepuff's." Thomas kissed the top of her head. "Are you okay?"

"You're okay with this?"

"They weren't jumping for joy, but it had to be easier than what they did to you."

"It wasn't anything..." When she thought of it it was the least they could've done. She got off easy, at least that time. At any time she could be subjected to some horrible payback now that the attention was on the pariah dating the most popular guy in school.

He pulled her down on the steps to sit next to him. "After this year I'm starting my training as an Auror."

Why was he telling her this? She knew what he wanted to do with his life. "I know," she responded.

"By the time you leave Hogwarts I'll already have a house secured. I'd like it if you move in with me."

"That'll be a while, and we won't see each -"

"We'll write," he interrupted with his well-thought-out solution. "We'll write every day if we have to. We'll see each other on holidays."

She leaned on his shoulder, his arm around her automatically. "Why me?"

"We've been over this."

"Tell me again."

"Because you're proud, and strong. Beautiful, and smart. Fearless with a good heart. Because you'll never change who you are no matter what people think. Those are admirable qualities that you have to work to find in someone if their there at all. With you not only are they there, but they shine."

"You're crazy for being with me."

"I'd be crazy not to be with you."

"We're hopeless then?"

He pulled her closer. "It's not a choice, and anyhow... It worked for your parents."


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

The Continuation

For all of her years at Hogwarts Ara was no one. She was virtually non-existent to everyone, but that changed in one day by one boy whom she continually threatened in her mind to make herself feel better. She couldn't outright threaten him to his face. That wouldn't help her newfound presence in the school's population.

Thomas was right, it wasn't good to be in the spotlight. There weren't expectations from her as he mentioned of himself, but there were whispers, and pointing. She'd take expectations any day compared to that. It was uncomfortable, and she wondered what they'd say if she did a trick, like jump through hoops. Would they be satisfied then?

After Thomas returned to his common room that day he comforted her outside of her own he was sentenced to being herded. In his absence his house members decided that it was unsafe to let him go anywhere alone. It was as if she was a wild rabid animal that had her sights set on him. It was insane, but they worked a system of slyly passing notes to each other. Actually, it wasn't very sly. They used Albey as a medium, and he was more than happy to do it. It was better that he no longer read their notes. He found them too gross.

Professor Binns droned on about something of the first Wizarding world. His voice was sleep inducing, all of his students had their heads on their desk asleep, a few sketching meaningless swirling designs on the corner of what was supposed to be their notes.

She didn't bother writing what he was saying. She read the textbook a dozen times at least, and that was enough. From her pocket she took out a different kind of note.

_Ara,_

_Are you enjoying Professor Binn's class? If you're reading this than surely you are one of the few students awake. I think that should be considered a superpower, don't you?_

_I miss you. I can't wait until the day we can be together in peace. There will be peace. They can't keep us apart forever._

_Thomas_

She wrote back, her handwriting thin, small, with lots of curves.

_Thomas,_

_There's only one thing that can keep me awake through the dullest voice imaginable, and it's these notes. I look forward to them. They're the brightest part of my day._

_I miss you too. The clock's hands move too slow. It's as if they know how badly I want to leave, but even when I leave I'll only have a few seconds with you if that. I want to stay with you longer._

_There can never be promises of peace, and forever is a long time. They won't give up._

_  
Ara_

When class was dismissed it took a couple of students to realize that they were not in their beds, and because of it she was the first one out the door. She held the note tightly in her hand, and kept an eye out for Thomas, or Albey. She didn't see either of them.

Walking the corridors wasn't the same as it was before. She had to keep her books, and book bag to her chest, and her elbows against the sides of her ribs. In one day she had her things thrown to the floor, and her chest bruised all by "accident." She should tell the teachers, but there was little purpose in that. Would they know who she was if she walked into their office? She suppose they would. Everyone knew her, but no one cared, not before.

In a flank of five students on each side that Ara hardly saw was Thomas. She kept her head down pretending as like she didn't see him through her lashes. She heard his mates laughing, and joking, and it was her chance. She bumped into him, and he caught her. Perfect.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" She slipped the note deep into his pocket.

"Don't be - my fault."

It couldn't be helped, smiles broke out. Then his friends roughly pushed past her taking him with them. It didn't matter, it served its purpose, but simultaneously they looked to each other, and watched until they were out of sight.

Days, weeks, and months went by just like that. Secret notes.

_Ara,_

_Have I ever told you how much I love your laugh? You say you laugh at the things I write, I wish I could hear them. You don't disturb your classes, do you? If you do I may make you laugh more often. Less than I like you, but more than I like the letters I like the defiance we have against everyone. Forever is a long time, and they can't keep it up. We can though. I'll never give you up._

_Thomas_

_Thomas,_

_I wish I was strong enough to give you up. It's the right thing to do, but... I don't have the courage to know what it would be like without you. I don't want to lose my only friend. You're more than that too. You're... My only bright spot in the future. I look forward to these letters like people look forward to Christmas._

_Ara_

_Ara,_

_Your courage lies with being with me. Most would leave because of the trouble we're getting. You're not. Another facet I admire about you. I'm glad you find yourself incapable of leaving. I don't know what I'd do without you. You seem to be my only real friend. Are you sure that you're not Hufflepuff?_

_Have you told your parents about us?_

_Thomas_

_Thomas,  
Yes during our Christmas break. Thought it best to tell them in person. Have you?_

_Ever call me a Hufflepuff in front of anyone, and I'll hex you. That's almost an insult to us Gryffindor's._

_Ara_

_Ara,_

_Yes. They're not happy. It has nothing to do with you, but your parents. I think they'll come around, they just need time. How did your parents take the news about us?_

_I never want to be at the receiving end of your hex's. Rest assured, I'll never call you a Hufflepuff, not even in private._

_Thomas_

_Thomas,_

_My mom is okay. My dad is a bit peeved about the house you're in... He'll live. I'm sure my mom has calmed him down enough. To be honest I don't think it matters who I'm dating. He wouldn't like anyone._

_  
Ara_

_Ara,_

_Easter break is coming up. We should all meet. I know you don't think it'll be a good idea, but I think it will be great. If we're going to be together than they'll have to learn to get along. We're a package deal now, right?_

_Thomas_

_Thomas,_

_When have we been a package deal?_

_Ara_

_Ara,_

_Meet me tonight in our empty classroom. I can manage to sneak away from my mates for one night. Meet me at midnight, and I'll explain it to you._

_Thomas_

Ara laid in her bed that night. She had ten more minutes. She shouldn't have finished her homework so soon, but it was easy to do. Instead of her usual post in the library she took it outside. It was a beautiful day, bright blue, and cloudless, not hot, but not cold. It was the perfect spring day. It made it easy to concentrate on her essays. Now while she waited for time to pass she found that she should've left some for then.

Idly she wondered what story Thomas was giving to his friends. She wondered if they'd let him go without supervision. Did friend's give out good behavior passes? How was she to know?

Checking her watch for the fifth time she saw that it was time. She moved out from behind her bed curtains, and left the dormitory, the common room, and in time the floor. She was walking a lot faster than she ever had when she used to meet with him. She had a good reason. It was the first time she would be with him since they were caught by Smith on the train.

The door creaked as it opened, and she shut it quickly. "Thomas," she hissed in the pitch black.

"Right here. _Lumos._" A light shone from the tip of his wand on the desk casting half of his face into shadows. He jumped off the desk, and held open his arms in invitation.

She chuckled, her heart racing, running into his chest. He picked her up off her feet spinning her around. When he set her down his hands were on the sides of her face, he kissed her hard. She could feel his teeth behind his lips.

He leaned back just enough that when his mouth moved, her lips followed. "You want to know why we're a package deal, Ara? Because I love you. You're it for me, there's no one else, there can't be."

Heat crept up her cheeks, her heart thumping harder than ever. "I love you too."

"I have a proposition for you..." He sighed finding her hands holding them as if it were the only thing keeping him in place. "Don't go to school next year. They wouldn't dare do anything while I'm here - they value my friendship - wouldn't go that far, but when I leave..." He didn't finish. "If you're parents home school you I can see you all year long, and then when you turn seventeen you can move in with me."

"You've thought a lot about this," she noted.

"There's nothing I want more."

There was nothing she wanted more either, to see him everyday. She cared nothing for how she would be treated in Hogwarts. She dealt with mockery, and she could deal with whatever they thought they may do after Thomas left.

Her parents wouldn't like her moving in with him so soon. They already voiced that when she graduated they hoped to have some time with her before she began a career. At the time she wanted that too. Things were different now, the whole year was different since that train ride to Hogwarts when Thomas stepped into her compartment. He defended her, and never seemed to regret it. Would her mom, and dad understand that? How could they not? "I'll think about it..."

He was dispirited, but he nodded in agreement. "I can live with that. I'd wait for you."

"I would never ask you -"

"You didn't."

She stood on her toes, and pecked his cheek. "Easter," she asked in his ear. She felt a tremble travel through him.

"Easter," he contested. "But it doesn't matter what our families say..."

"It'll help," she pointed out obviously setting herself on her heels.

"But it won't stop us."

"Nothing will." She touched his strong jaw feeling the stubble. "How did you get away from your mates?"

He laughed deeply, and winked. "Slipped something in their goblets at supper..."

She gasped in feign shock, her hand over her heart. "Are you sure you're a Hufflepuff?"

"In love with a Gryffindor. It's not a scandal at least."

"It's not, but we are. A Malfoy, and a Diggory."

"Don't refer to us like that. I'm Thomas, and you're Ara. Leave our surnames out of it, our descendents are not us." Thomas stroked her cheek lovingly. "I'm keeping our notes. We can add it that book you told me about. Let it be an epilogue."

She shook her head. "An epilogue means an ending."

"No, it means the future."

"That will one day be our past. Lets not call it an epilogue, how about a... Continuation?"

"All right then, a continuation."


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

Loyalties

They were back to passing notes like small children. Ara wanted nothing more than to return to that dark empty classroom again. Their time alone lasted a full hour, but it felt like much shorter. No time would be sufficient enough.

Easter lingered frustratingly in the distance. Then one morning she woke up, and it was upon her. She panicked. There was little to worry about, but she worried anyway. Thomas had already wrote both of their parents suggesting spending an afternoon together. That didn't keep her from worrying about how it would go.

She tried on every outfit she owned until she settled for a casual green dress her father bought for her. She once asked him not to buy her so many clothes because she didn't have the room for it. At that he magically expanded her wardrobe. Half of a Quidditch field could fit in there. She called it insane, he called it practical. One thing about the Malfoy didn't change, and that was the importance of appearance. It was ironic when she thought of it. No one cared for them, and the ones that did... It was a care of their existence polluting them, and that was all.

Ara took her suitcase out of her trunk, and packed like she had for Christmas stuffing at least half of her clothes inside. She walked out of her dormitory alone, her common room alone, and the castle alone. She alone in the horseless carriage, and alone in the compartment room on the train. She didn't see Thomas once, but she might have if that cluster of Hufflepuff's would've broken off, he was probably in the middle of them somewhere.

A book was a handy thing to have. Her mother taught her that, to always keep a book with her on trips, because they may come in handy. She was right. Ara attempted at reading it, her legs stretched out onto the seat her head leaning against the window.

Two chapters later she hadn't took any of it in. She couldn't recall a sentence out of the thirty-two pages. She stared out the window, the trees thinning to show a spanning, sparkling lake. She wasn't seeing it either thinking of Thomas, which compartment he was in, if he was thinking of her too, or laughing with those mates of his. She plotted on how to see for herself. If an excuse was needed she could say she was looking for the trolley, the one that carried delectable sweets, but what were the chances that she would have to use that?

She strolled the corridor glancing into each of the compartments turning her head swiftly so that her hair would be in her face, and no one would recognize her. If they did there was the good possibility that they would come out. She felt her wand in her pocket apprehensively. Not like her father wouldn't be glowing with pride for her daughter hexing someone on the train, but she really didn't want to hex anyone. She knew without once being in a duel that she could take 90 of the school population. She was taught by the best.

When she thought about how silly she was being she turned to go back to her compartment. That's when she saw him. through the window was a group of Hufflepuff's, the center of attention on Thomas who was smiling, and animatedly telling a story with a lot of hand motions. She only meant to see him, one glimpse was all, but she couldn't move. She became entranced with the way he was talking so lively.

Ara stood too long. One of the boys with a squashed face noticed her. If it were possible he became even more ugly as he plainly snarled at Thomas who looked over to her as well. He was the only one who grinned, the others were furious.

Thomas leapt from his seat, and opened the door. "Ara, what're you doing here?"

"Looking for the trolley."

"The trolley doesn't come for another thirty-minutes, Malfoy," one of the boys called nastily behind him.

"Come in," Thomas said standing aside to let her through.

"I'm not sure that's a good idea."

"Yeah, that's not a good idea, Thomas," another boy with flaxen hair stood beside him. "You're supposed to keep away from her. You said you would. We've agreed she isn't good for you."

He shot her an apologized look. "No, you agreed without even hearing what I had to say about it. And why is that, Henry? Because she's a Malfoy? Because her father was once a Death Eater?"

"He _is_ a Death Eater."

"Ara is not her father -"

"Like father like daughter!"

"An arrogant statement!"

Quickly Ara became uncomfortable. She wanted to leave, but not after she caused this much of a riot in a once happy setting. She got Thomas into it, she would get him out. She spoke rapidly to get her point across before someone had the chance to interrupt. "Think of me what you will, but I don't mean to cause Thomas trouble. I've been hated ever since I came to Hogwarts, and Thomas was the first genuine person I've met, and I owe him a great deal, so if it will risk his reputation, or whatever harm you - as his friends - will think it'll cause, I won't speak to him anymore."

Much less hearing a speech none of her schoolmates had heard her mutter a single word. Some wondered if she could speak. If common sense was used with any of them they would have figured out that talking was a waste of breath when you had no one to talk to. She was dubbed as a future Death Eater and groundskeeper, it would be foolish on her part to talk to herself, and be dubbed insane as well.

"That would be best," one of them finally spoke.

She nodded. She expected as much. No speech was going to get them to change their minds, and she had no desire to do so. Thomas had a good future before him, and there was always connections that would help him climb ranks in his chosen career. It was never known who would be handy, and he was liked by a lot of people. She did him a favor, and outset to return to her compartment.

A hand clasped her shoulder. Thomas held it firmly looking back to his mates. "I've should've done this long ago. Ara is my girlfriend, and you disliking her for petty reasons is irrelevant to that fact, because it won't change."

The whirring of the train, a laugh from the next compartment, and her beating heart were the only sounds that could be heard. It was the only evidence that time was moving, and they weren't frozen. They kept as motionless as statues, or as living beings that an artist was painting. No one moved to agree with Thomas. They sat there in self-righteousness. _So much for loyal Hufflepuff's_, thought Ara.

At last Thomas broke the stillness of the moment dragging her down the corridor. When he came to hers, the only one that was empty they went inside. He sat with her on the seat, and began laughing.

She watched him in disbelief. "What's so funny?"

"It felt good telling them off. They're my friends it wasn't easy."

"They all should've been in Slytherin."

He shrugged. "Put aside the house personality, we're just people. Teenagers at that. We are placed in the house that fits us _best_, it doesn't define who we are. A loyal Hufflepuff can betray, a brave Gryffindor can chicken out, a smart Ravenclaw can be wrong, and a sneaky Slytherin can do the right thing. Your father is a prime example of that."

"He's still sneaky."

"But he did the right thing, and Slytherin's aren't known for that. We're humans, Ara. Don't let the houses make up your views."

He was right. She didn't say it aloud, but they both knew it. In answer she laid her head on his shoulder as he rubbed her side, her ribs to her waist. She inhaled the cinnamon scent of him.

"I'm sorry about coming to your compartment, Thomas. I shouldn't have. I just wanted to see you."

"I'm happy that you came, I wanted to see you too. I really should've stood up to them long ago. I guess... I felt like I was betraying them by being with you. I don't regret it," he added quickly. "I don't regret a moment I spend with you, but..."

"I understand." They were his friends. She wasn't the person to know about loyalties to people that wasn't family, but she imagined it to be much the same. She felt just as much loyalty to Thomas as she did her family. That could cause problems if tomorrow did not go well. What would they do if it didn't? What if her father cursed them? What if they made rude comments? What if she wasn't witty, or pretty to be welcomed by his parents? What if she messed up somehow, and embarrassed her, and her parents, not to mention Thomas?

She freed her head of possible outcomes, and settled for contentment. Thomas confronted his friends, and she spent the remainder of her trip cuddled next to him. It couldn't get better.

Hours later, the sky darkened outside, then the train was slowing to a stop. They were at their destination. It was the quickest ride that Ara ever experienced.

Thomas held her hand as they made their way through the crowd. Due to the excitement, and lethargic feeling of the arrival no one paid them any attention so they exited the train in one piece.

In the midst of parents was her mom, and dad with her suitcase waving at her. Her dad immediately frowned when he saw who she was with, and looked fiercely to his right. She followed his line of sight, and there at the end was a couple, the man glaring back. The man was the spitting image of Thomas, only taller, and thinner. The woman was quite different with dark blond hair, much shorter, but with Thomas' cheekbones, and chin.

Thomas leaned into her ear. "I'll see you tomorrow, love."

"See you."

They went to their parents to pry their glazes apart. Tomorrow was going to be interesting.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

Malfoy's and Diggory's

Three jeans, five blouses, two dresses, and seven pairs of shoes. Ara pulled her hair back, pinned it up, and let it down. She put on makeup, and washed her face. She wanted to scream in frustration. Nothing seemed good enough. There was a flaw with everything, and her mother yelled for her to come down for breakfast for the sixth time.

She eventually settled for her black sneakers, blue jeans, and a red blouse with frills at the hems, the short sleeves puffed out. She let her plain brown hair fall in its straightness down her shoulders. She swept a brush of blush across her cheeks, and left it at that leaving her makeup on her crisp white vanity.

Everything in her room was white. The walls, the huge triple size bed, even the floor. It was like being in a large cloud. It made her peaceful, and feel innocent. Then again it might only be because it was her childhood room, there were still her muggle stuffed animals on the bed, and posters of Wizarding bands along the wall. If someone opened her wardrobe they would find ten orange Chudley Canon posters taped there out of sight, the players zooming across. Her Uncle Ron wanted very badly for her to become a fan. There was no chance in that happening. They were the worst Quidditch team in history, but to pacify him she took them happily. She swore to him that they were taped up. He just didn't know where.

Ara shoveled her food down quickly. Her parents stopped eating their forks halfway to their mouths, her father raising an elegant pale brow at her odd behavior. She was taught to eat slowly, but it was quite the opposite when she was nervous.

"Sweetie, you're going to be sick," her mom warned.

She set her fork by her plate. "Dad... Please don't give the Diggory's a hard time. _Please_, be nice."

"I'm always nice."

Her mom snorted. "Don't worry, Ara, I'll make sure your father behaves."

He sneered, and took a deep swig from his cup. Her mom mocked his actions.

Ara escaped upstairs to her bedroom. It wasn't her parents bickering that made her do so, she was used to that, but she had to be alone before her father hounded her with questions about Thomas. She had successfully avoided that so far, with a bit of help from her mom by changing the subject.

She sat at the edge of her bed hugging an old stuffed brown bear to her chest. It was placed in her crib the night she came home from the hospital, and she never stopped sleeping with it. She didn't take it to Hogwarts of course, but when she came home she held it while she slept. Her dad said that it was her Aunt Ara's, that he gave it to her for Christmas one year. It was the only thing she had of Aunt Ara's, and she suspected it was the only thing her dad had too.

"Ara," her mom called from the doorway before coming to sit beside her. "It'll go fine," she soothed running her hand along her hair.

"What if they don't like me," she asked in undertone.

She chortled. "As you know your grandfather hates me, but that didn't stop us." Her smile fell, and she became serious. "I know this is hard for you. I never imagined that the wizarding world would be this upset about my marriage, or even dare to take it out on you, but... Some things don't change. But you must not let that stop you from doing what you want, or feel that is right. This boy obviously likes you enough to face this with you. Whatever happens, no matter who dislikes you, or what they say - you are loved. Forever you'll be loved. Unconditionally."

"I was an accident," she stated feeling her mom's hand freeze on her shoulder in shock. "Do you regret me?"

"How can you think that?"

"I didn't want to think that dad was a Death Eater..."

"I have _never_ regretted you. You are the most precious thing in my life. I couldn't regret you any more than I could regret your father. There are no regrets. You were an accident, but you were a blessing. The best surprise I never though to ask for."

She breathed in relief, but there was something else nagging at her. It was best to start with her mother. Her father wouldn't handle it as well. "Mum," she said worriedly. "Thomas asked me to be home schooled next year. In case the kids are..."

"I know what you mean. Your dad, and I would be happy to home school you if that's what you want. Kids can be cruel, and I'm sure your relationship with Thomas is making it worse, and will get worse if he's not there - you'll be seen as vulnerable. It's your choice. We'll support you no matter what you choose."

Downstairs the doorbell rung. She stiffened. They were there.

Her mom kissed her temple. "Everything will be fine."

"Just give me a few. I'll be there soon."

"Okay."

When she heard the door click shut Ara fell on her bed, her arms outstretched. She closed her eyes, focused on her even breathing, and pretended that everything else disappeared. She should try to think positively. What was the worse that could happen? Her dad could hex Thomas's dad, and be sent off to Azkaban by Uncle Harry, and Uncle Ron. There had to be an even worse scenario than that, but she was supposed to be thinking positive. If that was positive then she was doomed.

She stood to her feet, smoothed out her blouse, and ran her fingers through her hair. As tempting as it was, she couldn't stay in her bedroom. She had to face it. She was a Gryffindor. There had to be one brave cell in her somewhere. What was it that her mother used to say to her, "being brave is being scared, but doing the right thing." Yes, that was it. She was scared, and the right thing to do was go, and face the music. Or the yelling. Or the cursing.

Ara descended the stairs taking in each of their faces. Her parents gleamed with delight. Mr. Diggory's eyes were glazed with coldness, but his wife appeared to be accepting. Thomas was the one that glowed the most. He met her at the bottom of the stairs, and kissed her cheek finding her hand with his.

"Mum, dad, this is Ara." he walked her to the center of the room showing her off.

"Malfoy," Mr. Diggory grumbled, her dad shooting him a hazardous look.

Mrs. Diggory held out her hand which she took. "It's nice to meet you, Ara. Thomas has told us wonderful things about you. Top of your school I hear, very promising, and beautiful might I add."

Ara blushed crimson. "Thank you, Mrs. Diggory."

"Everyone, please have a seat. I'll bring out the tea," her mother announced.

Ara, and Thomas sat beside each other on the couch, followed by her dad. Mr., and Mrs. Diggory took the two chairs across from them. While Mrs. Diggory looked perfectly at ease, Thomas' father was scrutinizing them through his fragile glasses. This didn't escape her dad whose face was masked in loathing.

Her mom came back into the room carrying a silver tray with five china cups of tea. She sat it gingerly on the coffee table serving everyone before sitting on Ara's side. She patted her leg comfortingly.

Silence engulfed them. It was worse than facing the Hufflepuff's on the train. She felt on display, something that she never felt before. She liked the shadows, being in the spotlight felt wrong. _Someone speak_, she urged. _Anyone._ She regretted her thoughts instantly when someone did.

"So this is the girl who has my son so enamored," Mr. Diggory said. "Not much if I do say so -"

"You may not," her dad snapped.

"You didn't speak like that to Voldemort did you?"

Both of her parents shot from their seats. Her dad took a step towards Mr. Diggory while her mom held his arm keeping him back. "Mr. Diggory," she scolded, "if you insist on being unkind to my family then I'll have to ask you to leave. My husband is no more a Death Eater than you are!"

Mr. Diggory's face was beat red. "I think we will leave." His eyes flickered to the black band around her dad's right arm to cover his Dark Mark, an alternative to the concealment charm. "Lets go, Miranda."

Mrs. Diggory got to her feet, "no," she uttered, and turned to them. "I'm so very sorry for his behavior. I apologize. I'm so embarrassed! Hermione, dear you remember what happened to Cedric... After all these years... We heard that Lucius was there in the graveyard... I suppose I've forgiven the past, but my husband..."

"Don't make excuses for me!"

"Edward, she's fifteen! How can you blame her for what happened that long ago? She wasn't born!"

"She's the daughter of _him_," he pointed at her father.

"If he was still a Death Eater do you think that he would marry Hermione?"

"There's a plan -"

"Fifteen years, Edward, stop it with your theory! Draco is not up to anything!"

Ara felt Thomas taut at his parents angry exchange. He kissed her ear, and whispered, "I have to get them out of here, I'm sorry, Ara. This was a bad idea."

Mr. Diggory slammed his cup on the tray it tipping sideways rattling. He stormed out, and Thomas faced his mother. "It's okay, mum. He'll be okay."

"He will... He'll be fine." She set her cup down, gentler than her husband did, and hugged her son. "We should be going." She nodded to Ara's parents. "I am sorry about this."

"Don't be," her mom assured. "We're... Used to it."

"It's a shame..."

"What is," Thomas asked.

"That you, and Ara -"

"I'm not letting her go, mum. People will have to get over it."

"You'll be facing a lot of ridicule..."

"We'll face it."

Mrs. Diggory touched her son's cheek. "If that's what you want."

"It's what I want."

Sitting on the couch her dad's fists clenched, but her mother smiled. Shyly Ara averted her gaze to the floor.

"It was nice meeting you," Mrs. Diggory shook hands with them. "We best be going..."

Mrs. Diggory threw a handful of Floo powder into the hearth of the fireplace. Green flames curled up, and she stepped through. Thomas touched Ara's hair once, and trailed his mother into the fire. Ara stared at it long after it burned down. She could feel her parents eyes on her back.

"It's not fair to him," she stated aloud.

Her dad leaned to capture her attention. "That's not your decision to make. It's his. He has a choice to be with you. A choice. What wouldn't be fair is to take that away from him. I don't like him, Ara, but he seems to like you. That's all I can ask I suppose."

Leisurely her mom sat, her fingers on her chin thoughtfully. Her eyes scrunched, and Ara knew that she was deep into figuring something out. She made that face a lot when she was working on her cases.

"Mum? What is it?"

"Mr. Lovegood retired from running the Quibbler... Luna took over..."

"What about it," her dad questioned curiously.

"The Quibbler," she grinned. "Yes! That's it! Draco, I think I know how to solve all of this!"


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

The Quibbler

The next morning Ara found her mother at the kitchen table beaming at a letter she held, the envelope discarded at her elbow. She appeared to be re-reading it, nodding, agreeing with whatever was in it.

"Mum?"

"Luna's going to take it."

She rubbed her eyes sleepily taking a seat across from her. "Take what?"

Her mom scooted the letter to her.

_Hermione,_

_That is romantic. I believe it'll boost further sales in the Quibbler. Send it over today. I'll make sure it'll get in the next issue._

_Sincerely, Luna Lovegood_

Through the haze in her brain Ara tried to make sense of it. With horrible clarity it clicked. "You're not going to sell the book, are you?"

"No, of course not, it's only going to be copied."

With her mouth agape like she knew it was she resembled a fish. "Why? That's personal..."

"I suppose it is," she shrugged. "I've had a long talk with your dad about this, and we both think that this is the best solution. The only solution, really. A lot of people buy the Quibbler, and they'll see our side. When they read the letters we'll have our voice heard clearly."

"Why are you doing this now?"

"It was unjust for you, being born of former enemies. In James' first year he told Harry, and Ginny how you were always by yourself. You have no friends. We didn't say anything, because you insisted that you were happy focusing on your studies..." She reached over taking her daughter's hands. "You need friends, Ara. You can't hide behind your books, and school work. You're a wonderful person, and you should stand up for yourself. Show others who you are."

Ara's bottom lip quivered, and she bit down on it. Hard. "They don't want to see me."

She squeezed. "Make them."

She made her decision. She was scared of returning to school next year. Not because of the abhor she would face, but because she would go to her formerly friendless state. Thomas wouldn't be there to brighten her day. Her sun was going to be gone. "I want to stay at school. I'll graduate from Hogwarts."

Her mother kissed her forehead smiling from ear-to-ear. "What do you want for breakfast?"

"Where's dad?

"Office."

"Eggs."

"Coming up."

Suddenly recalling her mom's past cooking disasters Ara jumped up taking the spatula, and frying pan she was holding. "I'll cook breakfast, mum."

She pointed a finger at her face. "Someday you, and your father will have to trust me to cook."

"The day you don't start a fire, we will." She smirked thinking about the actual fire's in the kitchen. Her dad considered placing a spell around the cooker to prevent her from using it. He decided that the spell would matter little when he would have to face his wife's wrath.

"I'll be in the study. Call when it's done."

"I will," she promised setting the pan, and spatula on the cooker. She searched in the fridge for the eggs.

The letters made the headlines of The Quibbler. It was impossible to mix in bold, and underline. **The Malfoy's Letters**. By comparison the other featured contents seemed less interesting. A weird, furry animal with an elephant's trunk was found in northern Africa by Luna, and her husband. There was an earthquake in western America that may have released something with a complicated name she couldn't pronounce.

Ara flipped past the first two pages to the letters. There was a publishers note at the top of the page.

_Hermione Granger, and Draco Malfoy were known adversaries in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. They were on opposite sides of the war, Hermione Granger fighting for the greater good, and Draco Malfoy for the greater evil._

_Five years after the fall of Voldemort (previously known as Tom Riddle), they married, and bring into this world a beautiful daughter by the name of Ara Narcissa Malfoy. Hermione Granger, one third of the Golden Trio is now known to be a betrayer to all she had stood for._

_We don't ask ourselves how this came to be? How did this unlikely pair share a love that was born from hate that rooted itself deeper as the years past, seven years to be exact. What happened to make the smartest witch of the age fall for the son of Voldemort's right hand man? You will find out now that it all began with letters of forgiveness._

There were inserts between the copied letters in explanation written by either her mom, or dad. Their full story was out for everyone to read, and most of the Wizarding world would read it before they set out to their daily activities which meant that she would see the reaction first-hand that day for it was time for her to board the Hogwarts Express. Her Easter break was over.

She placed the newspaper in her suitcase latching it closed. When she took it downstairs her dad relived her of it. They drove to the station, and slyly vanished through the wall separating the platforms, and onto 9 3/4 they appeared.

Some were whispering, others speaking as loud as they could, none of them directing their comments, and questions at Ara, or her parents. "That's them." "Is it true?" "It was true." The one facet they had in common was that they were staring at them in wonder, horror, and brooding.

The crowd stirred, and she saw Thomas weaving in, and out through them, and when he reached her he kissed her full on the lips in front of everyone. He released her to smile, and tuck a strand behind her ear.

"How is it," she asked, the cluster of families fading.

"Weird, but we'll be okay. Together."

"Together," she settled.

Her dad was giving Thomas a hard, calculating stare, but she ignored this as she hugged him, and her mom. "I'll write when I get there."

Hand in hand they moved through the mob. She spotted Mr., and Mrs. Diggory watching them intently. Mr. Diggory gave her the same look her father gave Thomas. She turned her back to him, and boarded the train finding a compartment to themselves.

Closing the sliding door they she came to rest her legs on the seat, and her head on his lap. He raked his fingers through her hair. Minutes later the train moved from under her carrying them to Hogwarts.

"You didn't tell me that your parents were going to give their letters to The Quibbler."

She fingered the knee of his jeans. "Sorry..."

"Nothing to be sorry about... Maybe they'll come around now."

Ara didn't respond. It was a good balance if Thomas was hopefully, because she wasn't. How much change could letters make?


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen

Her Sun

_Thomas,_

_I've decided to stay at Hogwarts. I need to see this out. It's the right thing to do. I hope you understand._

_Ara_

_Ara,_

_I understand. I'll miss you though. Write to me. Everyday._

_Thomas_

_Thomas,_

_If you write to me._

_Ara_

_Ara,_

_Everyday._

_How is everyone treating you? I'm getting a lot of sympathy from my house. They're trying to make up for how they treated us. A very Hufflepuff thing to do I might add._

_Thomas_

_Thomas,_

_Albey is very glad not having to avoid me anymore. As for the rest of the school... Lets not speak of it._

_Ara_

Ara bolted from Professor Binn's classroom. It wasn't like every other time. She was in a hurry to get out of there sure, but the reason changed. What once was sheer boredom had turned into running from her classmates. Every day they asked her millions of questions. If it was true, if her parents were star-crossed lovers, and the declaration of how utterly romantic it was. Most of it was from the girls, and this seemed to peeve the boys off that they were that giggly, every one of them carrying that edition of The Quibbler with their books.

She had gone from being treated like scum, to being ignored, to being treated like scum again, and to being the most popular girl in the school. For anyone else it would be similar to a particularly ugly caterpillar transforming into a social butterfly. The exception would be that she wasn't a butterfly any more than she was social. More than anything she wanted her invisibility back. She wondered if Uncle Harry would let her borrow that cloak of his if only for a little while.

Thomas was being eyed more than usual by the young female population, and how "romantic" it was that he defied his friends to be with her. Thomas who had from the beginning been popular to being scorned was now more popular than he was before. The exception was from the guys whose girlfriends ogled him.

If it was supposed to be easier for them to be together, it was, but not in the way they would hope. The next day when he kissed her in the corridor outside of her class every single person within range to witness it awed. Since then they passed they went their own ways sending their notes through Albey, and at night met in the obscurity of their classroom on the sixth floor.

Ara slid into the room hours past her curfew one night. The one of continuing many. A white ball of light twirled in circles in midair by where the professor's desk was. She ambled towards it feeling her way through the other scattered desks. The light hovered on a flat surface, and hands lashed out to grab her pulling her between his legs in a fierce snog.

He smirked, but his tone held bitterness. "According to every bloke I've ran into today, you've come quite the catch. They're taking a lot of notice to you."

"The girls have taken even more notice of you."

"Ara... I'm the first guy you've dated, aren't I?"

She heard the meaning under the question, and she didn't like it. "Why is it important?"

He exhaled shakily. "I love you. I've dated plenty, but never have I felt this way before. I need you to be sure you feel the same -"

"I do -"

"You think you do."

Her heart raced painfully in her chest. She had a horrible suspicion at where he was going with this sudden nobility. "Where is this coming from?"

He caressed her arm, her hand, drawing patterns in her palm. "If I never felt this way before, then this is special. It's strong, I know that. How do you know you love me?"

She huffed. How he was able to ask such a stupid question was beyond her. She locked her arms around his neck. "You saw me when no one else did. You didn't care about my name, who I was born to, my house, or how popular I was. I love your smile, your laugh, how you shake your foot when your nervous, how soft your hair is. I only want you. No one can be better than you."

"How can you know that when you've never tried?"

"Why would I want to?"

He leaned his head against hers. "I'm afraid of losing you, but I'm giving you a chance here..."

"You can't lose me, Thomas."

"You'll regret this."

"I can't regret someone that makes me as happy as you do. Trust me, I'd never leave you. Would be like leaving the sun."

His arms constricted her, his fingers digging into her back as if she would fall if he let go. "Good, because I don't think I could lose you." He fished in his pocket taking out a small black box. He flipped the lid open. Inside was a gold ring, a Garnet stone set in prongs, random designs making up the band. "When I'm gone... A sign for the boys to stay away. I reckon you'll be asked out a lot - now that your school mates see how beautiful you are." He took her hand sliding the ring on her left ring finger. "This one won't electrify anyone, I swear," he chuckled, "it's perfectly safe."

She grinned at her new ring. "You shouldn't -"

"It looks good on you," he interrupted rubbing his fingertips over hers. It tickled but she made no move to stop it.

"Thank you. I love it. And you."

Thomas traced the curve of her neck, her collarbone, and along the neckline of her shirt. Chills rushed through her, and she kissed the lobe of his ear as he outlined a vein in her wrist. He pressed his lips to it.

Ara couldn't imagine (nor wanted to), a better person she wanted to spend her time with. No one could possibly compare to the man she had with her. She knew that when they first met. It wasn't merely his looks. It was his personality. As odd as it sounded they... Fit.

It was near morning when they left that classroom.

A/N: In case anyone wonders "why Garnet," it's my birthstone, and the ring I described is a ring I have.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen

Pretty Angry

There was a lot more books than needed piled around Ara. Some were first year materiel, some seventh year. However they weren't there to study, they were there as a fort to keep her hidden.

There had to be somewhere, anywhere to hide from the onslaught of students. She didn't care to return to the classroom, not when she knew that Thomas wouldn't be there. It would feel lonely, so she sought her seclusion in the library in the very far corner.

For hours she sat there. She didn't think she so much time to herself since her newfound, and rather annoying popularity. It was nice. She forgotten how wonderful it was to be alone. _"It's not all that it's cracked up to be. There are expectations of you, and you face disappointment every day if you don't fulfill them."_ She knew better than ever what Thomas meant when he said that. There were expectations. Everyone expected her to be a hopeless romantic following in her parents footsteps, but she didn't see herself that way.

"You're all alone?"

Inwardly she groaned, and looked over her shoulder at the flaxen boy she recognized from the train. Thomas' friend who gave him such a hard time. If she remembered correctly then his name was Henry. "Hello," she responded in a clipped tone that suggested he leave.

Not hearing her correctly, or was thick enough to think it was an invite he sat beside her. "What are you reading?"

"None of your business."

He sniggered. "Okay, I deserve that. Look, I'm sorry about my behavior on the train. It was impolite."

She stared at him in disbelief. "Impolite? You were more than impolite! You were -"

"A jerk. A bully. A bad friend."

"Not my choice of words," she seethed.

"My heart was in the right place."

She snorted, and tried to turn back to her book, but he snatched it from her throwing it to the other end of the table. She crossed her arms over her chest. "What do you think you're doing?"

"I want to talk, and you're being difficult."

"I don't want to talk to you."

"Thomas has forgiven me, don't you think you should do the same?"

"No."

"More like your father than I thought. Hope Thomas knows that."

"Yes." Ex-Death Eater or not, she was proud of her father, and if anyone told her that she resembled him then it would be taken as a high compliment.

He leaned in closer. "You're pretty when you're angry..."

She scooted away. "I'm pretty angry," she corrected. "Leave me alone."

"Why would I want to do that? Thomas has had you all to himself. Give me the chance to get to know you. You might find that you like me better than him."

Thomas was trying to say something to that effect the night before. It held less desire for her then than it did when he merely suggested it. She counted the number of light freckles across the bridge of Henry's nose (fifteen) he was so close. If she inclined any further she would fall off the chair.

"Come on, Ara. You're not going to be with him for the rest of your life. You aren't your parents, are you? Why don't you prove it?"

She grazed her hip, to her back, and felt her wand. She whipped it in front of her at his chest, his deep set eyes widening. "If you ever touch me I'll curse you here to the other side of the world."

Very few Wizards dared to take a wand by force, but Henry dared. He lashed out pushing her wand to the side, and his lips collided with hers roughly. Instinct took over, and she grabbed the edge of the desk to hold herself upright. Somewhere in her mind she thought it might've been smarter to let herself fall to the floor, what were the chances he would follow her? What were the chances he would've done this at all?

As soon as it began it was over. His lips were off of hers, and then she saw the reason why. Involuntarily she gasped.

Thomas' clutched the neck of Henry's robe jerking him out of his seat. He shoved him to the wall bringing his wand to his throat. "How dare you," he boiled with rage. "How dare you snog her!"

"Last night I remember you saying something along the lines of... Oh, what was it... Ah! You were worried about her... Um... Lets say... Lack of experience."

He drew him forward to throw him harder against the wall hitting Henry's head with a sickening crack. "That was not an invitation to make a move on my girlfriend!"

"My mistake."

The wand dug into his flesh. "You messed with the wrong girl, Henry. Daughter of an ex-Death Eater, and one of the Golden Trio. Niece to several members of Dumbledore's Army. And you want to know what's scary here, mate? I am the one you need to be worried about, because I'll make Voldemort's death look fun next to what I'll do to you -"

Ara jumped up dragging Thomas a safe distance from him. "Thomas, don't. You'll get in trouble." She swept the room in a glance. In the far corner no one spotted the outburst too involved in their own studies. They were being quieter than she would think them for. And the librarian… She was no where to be seen, possibly stacking book in the back.

Henry winked at her. "If you ever change your mind -"

"I won't."

"I'll be here," he continued. "He is older after all, you might want prac -"

Ara's face reddened, and she pointed her wand at him once more, a red spark shooting out from it. There was a choked "oomph," from Henry who hit the wall, and fell on the floor limply like a broken marionette.

"Ara," Thomas exclaimed in mixed shocked, and awe. "Lets get out of here before we're caught." He took her elbow, and led them out of the library, and into the near deserted corridor. A few faces spun to watch them march down the hallway until they turned a corner.

Ara could feel that her own face hadn't returned to its usual complexion. She wasn't seeing where they were going, she was blinded by her rage. She didn't feel anything but the boiling in her system.

Then things went black, and there was the resounding slam of a door. They were in their classroom, the shades drawn over the windows. Neither of them lit their wands.

She felt a firm hold on her arms, hot air on the top of her head blowing wisps of baby hairs. "I'm sorry..."

The storm of anger inside of her was calming. Her sun was there with her. "Why are you sorry?" She embraced him around the middle as he held her waist, and head.

"He's my friend... He... I can't believe he did that."

"You don't take responsibility for him."

"If he -"

"Not in the middle of the library."

"Had plenty of guts to snog you."

"Thomas... Maybe it would be the right thing to do to see other people." She felt him tense. "I don't think you're supposed to stay with your first love. People are meant to date... But I don't want to. I want you. Is that so wrong?"

"If I was to be objective then I'd have to say that it is. You should see other guys. But with you I can't be objective, and I can't think of it as wrong, not when I'm here holding you, because it feels right."

"It does."

"If it feels this right, then how can it possibly be wrong?"

She was sure there was a reasonable answer to that, but more than caring to find it she wanted to stay there in his arms, drinking in the sound of his heartbeat. It thumped hard, but was slowing with ease.

There was little chance that her relationship would survive, but if her parents overcame the impossible, then why couldn't they?


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen

Apologies

The yells of Draco Malfoy echoed off the walls of the Great Hall the following day. Everyone glanced from a humiliated Henry at the Hufflepuff table in anger, and to Ara's burning features with the Gryffindor's in sympathy.

"HENRY JONES! HOW DARE YOU TOUCH MY DAUGHTER! I WILL WRITE YOUR PARENTS, I WILL WRITE THE SCHOOL, I WILL MAKE CERTAIN THAT YOU ARE PUNISHED FOR THIS! IF I HAVE MY WAY - AND I WILL - YOU'LL BE PUNISHED FOR THE REMAINDER OF YOUR MISERABLE YEAR!

BE WARNED! I DO NOT CARE IF YOU ACCIDENTALLY BUMP INTO HER IN THE HALLWAYS, OR IF YOU'RE PAIRED FOR A CLASS ASSIGNMENT, AND YOU TOUCH HER HAND PASSING A VIAL, IF I FIND OUT THAT IT HAPPENED I WILL BE THERE MYSELF TO EXTRACT ANY PARTS THAT I SEE FIT TO INSURE THAT IT DOESN'T HAPPEN AGAIN! KEEP AWAY FROM MY DAUGHTER!"

The red envelope, and the letter itself - the Howler - burst into flames disintegrating to ashes right there on Henry's plate of eggs, and toast. He audibly gulped.

Because of her lack of social interaction Ara had limited of opportunities to be embarrassed. If she had nothing could top how she was feeling then. She kept her gaze on her plate pushing around her food. She wasn't hungry anymore.

There was no question in who told her father, because only three people knew. Henry wasn't suicidal. She knew her father better than to think he _wouldn't_ send a Howler, or come down to make a scene. That left Thomas. Obviously.

Ara looked up from her plate long enough to shoot him a venomous glare. He blinked, and bowed his head in response. It wasn't in remorse, but in comprehension that she would come after him, and make him pay.

She was contemplating the most suitable punishment when Jewel, her gray Pygmy owl flew down, and ruffled her feathers next to her goblet. She dropped two letters clicking her beak happily.

Ara tore of a bit of her toast, and fed it to her. She ripped open the first envelope. She knew what one was without having to read it.

_Ara,_

_Don't be alarmed when a Howler comes in the Great Hall._ (Too late, she thought bitterly)_ I tried to tell your father that it would humiliate you, but he wouldn't listen. I'm sorry for any trouble it causes you today. Remember that it's only because he loves you. If you want to come home at any time, let us know._

_Your Mom_

That was as she figured. The reason for it didn't need to be said, she knew her dad loved her. He was overprotective. He made other father's of daughters look harmless. She stuffed in into her book bag, and took the next one, Jewel flying up to the ceiling, and out of the windows.

_Miss Malfoy,_

_I apologize for my ignorant, and despicable behavior at your household. It was inappropriate of me, and I ask your apologies. I will be sending a similar letter to your parents, and inquire that we try for dinner at my house this summer. It would be an honor to get to know you better as my son seems quite smitten with you. I trust his judgment._

_Edward Diggory_

Her eyes widened at the surprise letter. She read it over again hardly believing it. She looked to Thomas, but he was too intent on his plate, or more intent on avoiding her until her angry cooled.

She tucked the letter with the other, and went to class. The day stretched on, and by the time she reached Professor Binn's class she was too preoccupied with any hidden meaning of Mr. Diggory's letter to think of a sentence for his son.

The year was almost over, summer break approaching quickly. Many times her mother had said, "a lot can happen in a year." Nothing ever happened to Ara, and though her mom knew it better than nearly anyone, it was hard to comprehend up until then.

The Great Hall emptied out, and Ara swiftly left with them swinging her book bag over her shoulder. She squeezed through the crowd reaching the Hufflepuff's. When they were in the Entrance Hall was she able to grab a hold of Thomas, his friends stopping alongside him.

"I need to talk to you."

His friends gawked, nudged each other, and smiled like idiots. Without waiting for permission she dragged him to a corner watching his friends walk up the stairs, taking their time.

"Ara," Thomas prompt.

"Oh, yes, right. I got a letter from your dad."

"I know, he sent me one too."

"And?"

He cocked his head to the side. "I'm embarrassed by how he acted, but... It'll be better this time. It has to be."

She nodded absentmindedly. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the Hufflepuff boys at the top of the stairs. They continued to look like idiots. "Why are they staring at us?"

He smirked, but there was a bit of sadness to it. "Since that Quibbler edition you're no longer someone that needs to be avoided. You're extraordinarily beautiful, Ara, but now you're attainable."

She grimaced at his choice of words. She held up her left hand showing the ring. "No, I'm not, and them of all people thinking that -"

"It's okay," he tried to assure.

"They're your friends! Doesn't that break a code or something?"

He laughed. "Kind of, but as long as we both know you're not available, then... What does it matter?"

"I guess that's true," she sighed.

He bent giving her a chaste kiss, and offered his hand. "I'll walk you to class."

She accepted, and when they reached his friends he waved them away. He winked at her, and she grinned in return.

He dropped her off at her Charms classroom with the other students, a mixture of Ravenclaw, and Gryffindor. He wasn't halfway down the corridor when a girl whose face was covered in pimples bounded up to her. Ara drew back in response, but it didn't deter her.

"Was that your dad's voice through the Howler?"

"Yes," she responded shortly hoping that the unfriendly tone was enough of a hint.

"Wow, he sounded mad."

Apparently it wasn't. "Obviously."

"What did Jones do?"

Didn't her dad cover that? "He kissed me."

She gaped her mouth in appall showing two rows of gleaming teeth. "Oh! That's horrible!"

"He was a terrible kisser."

The girl laughed with amazing gusto. "Funny!" She shook her head suddenly becoming contrite. "I'm sorry. My name is Cameron Peakes. I'm a fourth year student. I've been wanting to talk with you forever, but everyone kept telling me that you weren't interested in talking to anyone. I hope that isn't true, because you seem to be a very nice person."

Ara took a breath, because the girl didn't. "Nice to meet you."

"I know who you are, Ara Malfoy. You've gotten popular. Is that article in the Quibbler true? It's so romantic!"

With definite control she didn't roll her eyes. That question was old, and tiring. School drama faded with time, but she was hopelessly wondering if that was the case for that grating question. It was almost better to be hated. No one cared to ask her things like that, much less ask her anything.

"Yes it's true," she responded tiredly.

Behind her the door opened to signal that class was in session. The girl bounced on her heel waving ecstatically, "we'll talk later, Ara!"

She groaned quietly. She would skip class if she wasn't determined to keep her marks where they were at (the top). Sitting at her desk in the back, the farthest from the giddy girl she only hoped she could run out of there before she caught her.

Alas that didn't happen. Ara wasn't out of her seat when what's-her-face was in hers.

"I'll see you in the common room!"

With dread she noticed her tie, and the crest on her robe. How could she when her mouth moved like a hummingbird's wings? But she ruined the hope that she would be easily avoidable with the two words, "common room." Her tie, and crest was Gryffindor.

Thought the day Cameron trailed her. Ara purposefully avoided the common room, but it was to no avail. She saw the girl next to her in the Great Hall, classrooms, corridors, and the Owlery. The vast grounds, and seemingly endless walking did nothing to discourage her.

At the end of the very long day Ara came to the conclusion that tying cement blocks to her legs, and jumping in the lake would be a wasted effort. Cameron would catch her, and the stupid girl would jump in too.

With her loud mouth, and subtle footsteps she was unavoidable. Ara considered herself lucky that she was in a different year than her, and was placed in a different dormitory. This allowed her to sneak out to visit Thomas in their classroom.

"She's a menace," she complained to him. "She followed me into the bathroom!"

He chuckled, but chocked off immediately at her dangerous glare. "She likes you. You know, if you gave yourself a chance to interact you'd find that a lot of people would like you - more than they do now."

"I'd rather be thrown to a starving dragon."  
He patted her knee sympathetically. "If you keep this sour attitude a dragon won't even sniff you." By another one of her looks he added, "I love you, Ara, but... You've been friendless for so long that you don't know how to be one."

"I'm not a good friend? Enlighten me - what have I done wrong with you?"

"You haven't, but I was insistent. She is too."

"You want me to date her as well," she jest.

He kissed the tip of her nose playfully. "I want you to be nice to her."

Ara wrinkled her nose in though of being nice to the wretched girl. She was her babbling shadow. She was something she wanted rid of, not to console.

"We should leave," Thomas advised checking his watch's face. "It's nearing one."

Inside she moaned like a child that didn't get their way. In spite of her newfound popularity she didn't find the idea of more friends appealing. Thus, Thomas was her only friend. She held no interest in changing that.

The irritating girl would have to go away.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter Seventeen

Beautiful Scar

The ground was damp from the previous storm that day, rain dripping in cadence from the tree leaves. Her trainers suctioned in the mud, a sloshed popping sounded with each step, but she was ecstatic. She could hear that sound. It wasn't drown out by any prattle.

Ara had never been happier for it to be a weekend. Without the hassle of sharing a classroom with Chatty Cammy (as she appropriately nicknamed her) she felt that it would be easy to dodge her. Karma must have been holding a grudge.

Somewhere on the third floor between the Charms classroom, and Defense Against the Dark Arts she lost Cameron. There weren't many students in the hallways, most preferring to stay near their common room's fireplaces, so how she managed it, Ara didn't know. She couldn't have been lucky enough that Chatty gave up.

Thomas asked her to be nice. He had come to see the Granger aspects in her, and now he frequently forgot that there was Malfoy there too. The Malfoy in her wouldn't allow her to be nice that way. She was a balance of them, and compassion could only go so far.

She shook her head at that contemplation. She was Ara Malfoy. She made her own decisions. Regardless hers stayed the same.

There was a cold, wet rush to the breeze. Rain would be coming again soon. She sloshed forward until there was a squeal ahead. Her head snapped up from the concentration on her trainers, and she let out a slur of curse words that would make her father shocked. Unlike her mom he knew she cursed, but more than he assumed she did. She was never too worried about her mom. She would blame Uncle Ron for it.

Pritchard, and Higgs pitched a ratty old book back, and forth over a girl's head. Chatty of all people. She jumped up every time it passed overhead, but her slow reflexes wouldn't allow her to seize it.

Ara shouldn't be so nice. It would become expected of her, and she couldn't have that. But Pritchard, and Higgs needed to be taught a lesson.

She aimed her wand above Chatty's head, and as the book made it's way over to Pritchard she muttered a spell, and the book froze in mid-air. Chatty grabbed it, and squealed, this time in delight.

Pritchard, and Higgs turned to the source of the spell, and Ara smirked proudly causing them to glare. She twirled her wand in her fingers daring them to draw theirs out. They didn't. Being the self-absorbed Slytherin's they were they walked away, but not without furious looks over their shoulder.

Chatty also noticed her, and made her way through the mud as fast as possible to unexpectedly hug her. Ara staggered from it, and patted her head awkwardly.

Over it she saw that Higgs had spun around, her wand pointed at them, Pitchard desperately trying to pull her along. Ara yanked Chatty behind her as the spell burst red hitting Ara in the chest.

A horrified scream ripped from her throat, but in fact it felt like something was ripping from her chest. Her ribs, the flesh that it normally clung to being melted right off. She was vaguely aware that she was lying on the wet ground. She choked on the terrible scent, an indescribable scent. In the haze the pain gave her she saw Cameron above her tearing off her robe, and shirt. A loud "no," yelled from above her before she lost consciousness.

* * *

Doors were slamming, and people bustled about over her. Slowly she took in the little essentials. She was lying on a bed. The sheet under her was scratchy. She felt like her ribs had been broken multitude of times, her flesh being cut, and torn open.

"How is she," asked her father anxiously from her right.

There was an answer from Madam Perry, the Hogwarts nurse. "There'll be a scar, but otherwise she'll make a full recovery."

"What're they're names? Will they be punished?!"

"Miss. Peakes has given the names of the two students, and yes they will. It was a dark curse, and the Headmaster is seeing to it that they will have it on their records. They're being suspended from Hogwarts as we speak."

"I want to speak to them myself!"

"Mr. Malfoy, I don't think that's a good idea."

Something warm touched her cheek, and her father's voice lowered several octaves. "Ara, sweetheart?"

Ara opened her eyes the haze she was feeling earlier vanishing. "Dad."

He kissed her forehead. "You're awake, good. The students responsible for this are being suspended. You're fine. Madam Perry healed you."

She roved her eyes through the white walls of the Hospital Wing. How did she get there? "What happened?"

"You helped a girl... Peakes, I think her name was. You took a curse for her." He said this as though it was the dumbest thing she ever did, but at the same time there was a note of pride in his tone.

"Where's mum," she tried to sit up to look around him, but was pushed gently back.

"She's in court, she'll be here soon."

"What was the curse?"

"It -" He cringed. "It was a very dark curse."

"I want to know."

"Your mother you are." He sighed helplessly. "It melted the skin from your bones..." His voice shook as he said it.

Ara was strangely relieved. So when she thought her flesh was being melted, it was, it made sense. She cringed herself imagining the visual. "Oh," she replied, the only word she knew to say. No words were appropriate enough, but then something horrid came out, the last thing she thought she would ask. "Peakes is okay?"

"Remarkably your mother," he smiled happily. "She's fine. More worried about you than anything. She's sitting out in the hall with _Diggory_," the name spoken with disdain.

"Thomas is here," she smiled. "Can I see him?"

"Ara, I was wrong," he told her abruptly, amazing her since her father by no means confesses he's wrong. "You can date a Slytherin, or a Gryffindor, or a Hufflepuff, any house you'd like, but please, get rid of Diggory."

She frowned. "Why?"

"I got a letter from Mr. Diggory. Seems to think that an apology means that he'll get another chance," he sneered. "Wants to have dinner with us."

After having her flesh melted from her chest, having dinner with Mr. Diggory didn't seem to be half-bad. She could actually look forward to it. "Dad, I think it's a good idea. Give him a chance," she loosely quoted Thomas.

"If that's what makes you happy."

She raised a brow at his fast, and accepting response. "Mum's making you," she guessed.

He nodded glumly. "I'll send in Diggory."

"Thanks," she called to his back as he left through the arched door, and soon Thomas was rushing through it, Cameron at his heals. From the hallway her dad spat, "she did not say you, Peakes," but the door slammed shut in his irritated face.

"How are you? Are you okay? Oh that was such a horrible curse! Madam Perry told me what happened when I was in here, and oh, I'm so glad you're okay. You dad seems very nice, a little rough around the edges, but nice enough. Madam Perry says you'll be in here for a couple of days. I think I'll pick up your homework if that's okay with you. You have the top marks in our school I don't want that falling, and I'm sure you don't either, you're very smart, you know, Ara."

Ara, and Thomas stared at her until Thomas placed a hand on her shoulder calming her down. "Cameron, do you mind giving me some time alone with her?"

"Oh, no of course not! You two make such a cute couple, I don't want to get in the way, consider me gone." She gave a dazzling smile to both of them, and waved all the way out the door.

Thomas looked tiredly to her. "I see what you mean," he commented low, and monotone.

"She's not that bad," she admitted to which Thomas grinned at. "Don't mention it. Ever."

"Warning taken, but I do understand where you were coming from. She didn't stop talking the whole time. I know now every gossip about every one, even the students in Durmstrang. Don't ask about that!"

She laughed, "wasn't going to."

Suddenly he frowned as if struck by an irrepressible thought. "Can I see it?"

"See what?"

"Your scar."

She bit her lip worriedly. She hadn't seen for herself what her scar looked like. She wondered how bad it was, and if Thomas would be repelled by it. Taking her time she undid each button. She held her breath as she saw the beginnings of a strip of skin paler than the rest. It looked like her father's complexion, ghostly white. She stopped at her breasts where it seemed to continue.

Thomas ran a finger over it, his skin tan next to hers, and most especially by the scar. "Beautiful," he muttered.

"You've got to be kidding," she hushed dubiously. How could he think that a scar was beautiful? It was hideous.

"You'll be the envy of the Gryffindor's. They all wished they could do something as brave to earn a scar like this."

She placed her hand over his pressing it to her chest glad for whatever reason that he wasn't revolted. They stayed like that until her father came in, and Thomas straightened, his hand shaking her dad's politely, any trace of lust in his eyes gone. Ara hid her giggle pulling the sheet over her chest to hide the undone buttons. Lucky for her, her dad was too busy glaring at her boyfriend as he was accustomed.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter Eighteen

Ara Narcissa Malfoy

In two days time Ara was back to her classes. With the attention she got for being a "hero," she found that she would rather be back in the Hospital Wing. To the greatest of odds she was grateful to Cameron. She kept everyone away with her mindless chatter, and against every bit of control she had she saw a good side of her, and didn't mind having her around.

Cameron was funny, and she knew everything about everyone no matter what school they belonged to as Thomas pointed out. She was smart, and spent most of her time in the library. She didn't have many friends, if at all, and she didn't mind that. Cameron actually preferred it. She was an only child, poor, and her parents divorced like so many others, but she was happy. She kept positive through it, and Ara admired her for that, but because it wasn't faked. She was real.

When it came time to part for the summer they said goodbye like old friends.

"Owl me! You'll be here next year, right? Oh, give Thomas my congratulations! I can't believe he graduated yesterday!"

She listened closely, used to doing that whenever there were questions involved in Cameron's blathering. "Yes, I'll be back next year, and I'll tell him." _Again_, she thought as Cameron had told him at least five times the day before. Graduate students had their graduation, and left the day before the train traveled to King's Cross.

"Oh, good! I'll see you after summer then! It'll be so great! We'll talk through Owl, or better yet you can visit me. Spend a couple of weeks with us. That will be so much fun!" Cameron hugged her for the third time that day, and she smelled a strong aroma of baby powder.

Ara watched her disappear through the crowd on the loading platform. Ara caught sight of her older brother, a masculine man with a full beard giving her a one- arm-hug. Instantly Cameron was talking up a storm.

She held her hand shielding her eyes from the sun searching for her parents. They stood waiting near the pillar for her, her dad with her trunk.

She hurried to them hugging in turn, but noticed her dad's solemn expression compared to her mother's cheerful one. She waited until her trunk was in the boot, and they were in the car on the way home, before she brought it up.

The car had to be new. Not only was it a shiny Kelly green, it had that new car smell, the one that gave her a headache. Considering the color it was her dad's choice, but her mother drove. He didn't have his license. He thought muggle transportation was a useless waste of time, but her mother insisted on being careful, and using it when they could, which was too much in his taste.

"Dad, is anything the matter?"

Her mom smirked in the way her dad did when he was being patronizing. She stopped at a light, showing the smirk to him. "Your father is just upset. Mr. Diggory wrote this morning, and asked when it would be good to have dinner. I told him tonight."

"Is he bringing Thomas," she asked hopefully.

"Yes," her dad hissed.

She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. Her dad wouldn't see the humor in his reaction.

He glimpsed at her in the mirror in the visor, and she made her expression blank. "Ara, your exams? How well did you do?"

"I passed them all. I'd expect an 'O' in each."

He beamed. "Aha! That's something to bring up to dinner."

"Draco," her mother scolded. "Don't make a scene."

"She worked hard for those grades! I see nothing wrong in mentioning it."

"I see something wrong in being smug about it."

"Oh come on, you can't say you're not proud!"

"I am proud!"

Ara turned to stare out to the window as her parents continued to bicker. The quaint houses passing by in blurs of colors as the car moved once more.

* * *

With her trunk flung open at the end of her bed Ara sorted her belongings in their rightful place. Her books, parchments, and quills on her desk. Her clothes separated into the hamper, and her wardrobe. Her necessities ranging from the bedroom to the bathroom that connected off of her room. She moved each object out of there until it was empty.

She gathered her hair into a ponytail, dressing in black sandals, black jeans (ones without worn patches at the knees), and a golden yellow blouse. She thought Thomas would like her choice of colors. For added measure the band in her hair was matching to her blouse.

A last glance in the mirror, and she decided that she was pleased with the outcome. She hopped downstairs, taking a whiff of dinner (buttered pasta with numerous flavorings), her father, practically an expert in cooking was in there as he was for most of the making of their meals. Her mother sat on the couch in the lounge with a new book on won, and loss court cases. It had to be at least five pounds.

Ara went into the kitchen leaning against one counter that didn't seem to be in use. The others had a ton of utensils on them. Her dad bustled around them flicking his wand, a spoon stirring the steaming pot itself.

"Dad, I want you to promise that you'll be nice to the Diggory's."

He stopped long enough to give her a hard look. "Okay," he resolved after only a few seconds hesitation.

"Mum threatened you?"

He sighed heavily almost resembling a gasp. "Why do you assume that when I'm going to do the _right_ thing it's your mother's bullying?" He said 'right,' as though it was a matter of opinion.

"I do not bully," her mom reprimanded from the sitting room. He rolled his eyes, and she added, "don't you give that look!" He turned to his pot checking inside though the spoon was doing the job well.

In thirty minutes dinner was done. Three minutes after the table was set by the three of them the Diggory's arrived. It seemed as if everyone in the room noticed how Ara, and Thomas' face lit up when they saw each other, how they hugged, and their joined hands on the way to the dining room, a room made completely of the finest oak wood, the walls, the floors, and the ceiling.

Soon they were all seated at the dining room table, a very thick expensive table with many vine designs on its surface. She sat between her mom, and Thomas. Mr., and Mrs. Digory across from them. Her dad was at the head tapping his fingers on the chair's arm like he couldn't wait for the guests to leave. Once he winced, and she guessed that her mom slyly kicked his shin in gesture to show more respect.

"Mr. Diggory, would you like more pasta?"

"No thank you, dear. It was delicious, but I'm full."

"As much as I'd like to take credit it was Draco that cooked."

"You're a wonderful chef, Mr. Malfoy."

Her dad nodded in acknowledgement. He winced again his eyes watering, and said, "thank you."

Thomas, and her shared a knowing look, smirks playing on their mouths, and simultaneously held hands under the table. He caressed his thumb over her knuckles. It was a silent agreement. Their father's may never get along, but one thing was for certain, and that was they would walk through the fires of society, and expectations together.

They added their notes to her parents letters. A collection to be handed down for generations, the love of a Malfoy, and a Granger to begin the love of a Malfoy, and a Diggory.

Ara started out the year with a bad name, and no friends. In one year she fell in love, regained her family's good reputation, and reluctantly made a new friend. Ara Narcissa Malfoy was a half-blood. She was beautiful, and proud. But most important of all, she was happy.

A/N: This is the end. I don't believe it lives up to Letters of Forgiveness, but it was what I had in mind for Ara, and I felt the need to share it.


End file.
